Really, Arthur
by My Dear Professor McGonagall
Summary: A series of one-shots from the marvelously long and loving lives of Molly Prewett and Arthur Weasley. A sibling piece to "Oh, Harry" and "Honestly, Ronald."
1. Haunted

Hi people! I think we all know what's up here. Pretty routine MDPM stuff. I'm really excited, I've been dying to get into some really good Molly and Arthur stuff for ages. Off we go!

Love,

Lucy

* * *

31 October 1961 – Haunted

Molly Prewett bit her lip nervously, glancing over her shoulder down the dark corridor, and grabbed Arthur Weasley's elbow. He stopped and looked down at her. "Do you really think it's haunted, Arthur?"

He frowned and held a finger to his lips. She gulped and nodded.

"Quiet, you two!" hissed Emmeline Vance. She and Tom McKinnon were leading the way to the steps of the Astronomy tower. It was midnight, well past curfew, but they had talked Molly into coming with them on what Tom called "an expedition" to find the ghost that supposedly haunted the Astronomy tower—the only ghost at Hogwarts that no student had ever met.

Molly tiptoed forward, still clinging to Arthur's elbow. She was beginning to wish that she'd stayed in the common room; it was terribly dark and creepy up here when it wasn't time for class. Arthur looked around at her, confused, and Molly quickly released him.

"Okay," said Tom, stopping by the door to the staircase. "This is it. The ghost lives right here."

"It doesn't _live_ anywhere," Molly corrected him, and Emmeline elbowed her.

"Let's go," Arthur said eagerly.

All four of them drew their wands. Molly stood nervously behind Arthur and Emmeline, chewing her lip as Tom flung the door open with a bang.

Nothing was there.

"Let's go up," Emmeline whispered.

Moving as a unit, pressed against each other out of fear, they began to creep up the stairs to the parapet where they usually had their Astronomy lessons. Molly kept glancing over her shoulder, convinced that at any moment, something was going to swoop out of the darkness and grab them.

"It's locked," said Tom's voice from just up ahead. It seemed he had run into the door to the parapet. "Anyone know how to unlock it?"

They all looked to Molly, who—though of _course_ she knew how to unlock a door—frowned severely. "I think we should go back to the common room," she said. "We'll be in enough trouble as it is being out this late without getting caught out of bounds."

"Come on, Molly," Emmeline said, tugging her sleeve. "It's just a bit of fun for Halloween!"

"I don't want to be here!" Molly told her, and she pushed past Emmeline and Arthur, scurrying back down the spiral staircase and out into the long, dark corridor. She ran so quickly that she was nearly at the Fat Lady in a matter of minutes, but the faster she moved, the more certain she was that she was being chased by the ghost. She could practically feel it touching the back of her neck with long, ice-cold fingers—and quite suddenly, she was lying on her back on the carpeted floor, with all the wind knocked out of her.

Professor McGonagall stood over her, one eyebrow arched. "Miss Prewett." Molly gulped. "What do you think you are doing?"

"Er—I, uh," Molly stammered, scrambling to her feet. "I was—"

"Molly, there you are!" She turned. Emmeline had appeared just behind her, and she was grimacing and holding her stomach in a most peculiar way. "Oh, you found Professor McGonagall," said Emmeline.

"Miss Vance?" asked Professor McGonagall, looking suspiciously between the two girls.

"Professor, I'm sorry we're out of bed," Emmeline said, batting her eyelashes, "But I think I might've eaten too much at the feast. I've got a dreadful stomachache, and I wondered if you would let me go to the hospital wing. Molly said she'd run and fetch you, but she didn't come back after a little while, and I got worried."

Molly's jaw hung open. Then she looked up at Professor McGonagall, unable to speak.

McGonagall was eyeing them both very closely, but at that moment, Emmeline gave a very theatrical groan, and she was forced to accept this version of events. "Very well, Miss Vance, come along. Back to bed, Miss Prewett," she ordered.

Molly stood rooted to the spot, unable to move as they disappeared around the corner. She hurried off in the opposite direction, gave the password to the Fat Lady at the end of the next corridor, and dashed into the common room. Arthur and Tom were both in armchairs around the fireplace, laughing hysterically.

"Oh, hi, Molly!" Arthur said enthusiastically. "All right? Emmeline get you out of trouble?"

"We heard McGonagall catch you when we were sneaking back in," Tom explained.

Then they both fell silent, staring at her with wide, terrified eyes. Molly was glaring between them furiously, her arms folded tightly. "Don't you _ever_ try to get me or Emmeline to sneak out of our dormitory _again_!" she barked. "The two of you nearly got us both in real trouble, just because you heard some silly story about the Astronomy tower being haunted and wanted to scare us, too!"

Tom's fear evaporated instantly as he burst into laughter, but Arthur still looked petrified at this sudden explosion. Turning her nose in the air, Molly marched away up the girls' stairs without a backward glance.


	2. Order

This was sort of an interesting idea that popped into my head. I was skimming through unusual Molly/Arthur canon moments, and it occurred to me that unlike in the movie, it's Molly who's with Harry the night of the Third Task. And then, when I was organizing all of these oneshots, I realized that I think I've got like four that happen in 1995! Big year for the Weasleys... XD haha

Thanks for all the reviews! Enjoy!

* * *

25 June 1995 – Order

Molly sat at the kitchen table in the Burrow, gazing down into her mug of tea. Her eyes were dry as paper, painful to close in the late afternoon light that streamed across the table. She glanced up at her clock. Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny were at school, of course. Bill was travelling—on his way to see Charlie, no doubt, who was at work, just like Percy. Arthur's hand, too, rested on _Work_—though Molly knew he was not at the Ministry, but visiting Dumbledore.

She couldn't remember the last time she had been awake for so long—she had gone the entire night fully awake at Harry's bedside, and given him a goodbye kiss before he had woken up, before going to talk to Dumbledore herself. She felt utterly drained, but she was somehow still totally alert and very, very nervous. Every flicker of a shadow blowing a branch near the window, every sudden noise made her high-strung and anxious. She buried her face in her hands, feeling her eyes water.

A soft whirring noise drew her attention; Arthur's hand spun round the clock face to _Travelling_, and she looked up expectantly at the back door. A moment later, it opened, and Arthur trudged in, looking pale and worn. He looked at Molly and smiled gently.

"Hello, sweetheart," he said.

And, unexpectedly, Molly pressed her lips together, feeling her chin tremble, and her tears spilled over. She drew a shuddering breath as Arthur pulled up a chair beside her, pulling her into his arms.

"Oh, Molly, Molly," he murmured, kissing her cheek and pulling her against his shoulder. "Molly…it's all right, darling, it's—it's going to be all right. Don't cry, Molly, don't cry…"

She sniffed heartily. "I just—I don't—I don't know what…it's so awful Arthur, it's awful!" she wailed, throwing her arms around him. "Everything—the stupid, stupid tournament—and _Harry_—and—and Fudge, that idiotic man! And—oh, that poor Diggory boy! Poor Amos!"

"I know," said Arthur gently. "I know."

"I'm so glad you weren't there," Molly told him honestly. "I—I'm never going to—forget that…"

"I'm sorry," he replied. "I'm so sorry."

Molly wiped her tears away, sighing heavily.

"Are you tired, Molly?"

She nodded. "I'll be all right. I'd rather be awake right now, honestly."

Arthur stroked her arm. "How is Harry?"

Her chin trembled again. "He's not the same boy. He's just—he's not. He's been through so much, Arthur, and—and now this, it's…it's cruel." She folded her hands tightly on the tabletop and was silent for a long minute. "You know…sometimes, when I check that—the clock—I have a little moment of fright, because I can't find Harry?" She gave a miserable laugh and sniffled. "That poor boy."

"You've got a good heart, Molly," Arthur said. He picked up her hands and kissed them.

She drew a deep breath. "I asked Dumbledore if we might take him straight from King's Cross when the train arrives. I can't imagine letting him go to those terrible people for one more summer."

"And?" Arthur asked.

She shook her head. "He seems to think that Harry _needs_ to go back. I'm afraid I might have been a little short with him. But we can collect him after a couple of weeks, and then he can stay here, with us."

"That'll be as good as anything," said Arthur, "I—well, I have something I need to ask you about, Molly."

She raised her eyebrows.

"How—Dumbledore told me that—you saw the argument with Fudge—and Bill said that you were determined that we would help," he said. Molly frowned slightly. "I want to be sure that—well, that _you're_ sure. It does mean…joining the Order of the Phoenix. Dumbledore explained it all to me just now—"

"Yes," Molly said sharply. "Yes, Arthur—I meant what I said."

"All right," he answered slowly, "But—the _Order_—"

"I know," she said.

"Fourteen years ago—"

"Fourteen years ago I had six children under the age of twelve and one more on the way, and I'd just lost my brothers," Molly told him, setting her jaw. "I wouldn't have gone near that organization with a ten-foot broomstick, nor would you have done. But Arthur," she said, taking his hand, "I don't think we have a chance of stopping Bill, or Charlie, or Percy from joining—we'll probably even have to fight Fred and George on it, they're seventeen now. The best way we have of staying together is to—to help."

Arthur stared at her.

"Unfortunately, you and I have raised seven children with very strong convictions," she said, with a weak smile. "But don't make me remind you where they got them from." She swallowed hard. "This is all going to come down to who believes in Harry and Dumbledore, and who doesn't. That's pretty clear, right now. And I think we both know where we stand on that matter."

"Not unfortunate, at all," Arthur said, his voice cracking slightly. Molly gave a tired sigh, but, as she always did, leaned forward and rubbed the small amount of red hair that still remained on top of his head. He smiled and kissed her hand, saying, "We're going to be all right, you know. All of us."

"I know," she said. "But I wish I didn't need to hear you say that."


	3. Chocolate

Hope you're all ready for some cuddly Weasley babies!

* * *

13 May 1981 – Chocolate

"Ronnie, darling, come on," Molly pleaded, bouncing the baby in her arms; he was wailing despondently, for he had a terrible cold that was stubbornly resisting all of Molly's usual remedies. "Aren't you tired, darling? Don't you want to sleep—ouch!" She pressed a hand to the side of her large belly and moved to sit down in the armchair beside Ron's crib, wincing. She had not felt at all well during the course of this pregnancy; hardly a day seemed to go by where she did not feel ill, have such bad back pain and headaches that she simply had to stay in bed, or been horribly sick for the better part of the day.

And she felt dreadful for it—not only would the new baby be the majority of her focus after its arrival, it was taking all of her time for enjoying her boys before it was even born. She pushed away that rather nasty thought, though, and sent a quick apology down to her belly before returning her attention to Ron.

"Poor baby," Molly murmured, kissing his feverish neck, "My poor little one…come on, can't you sleep, darling?" She moved Ron to cradle him in her arms. He sniffled, his large blue eyes full of tears and his cheeks red and blotchy from crying. She dabbed at his nose with a handkerchief; he was getting a little too big for the blue pajamas he wore, she noticed.

Ronnie grunted unhappily and squirmed, trying to put his arms around her neck again. Molly brought him up to her shoulder and hugged him close. "Oh, sweetheart…what am I going to do with you?"

"Buh duh buh," Ron murmured. "Buh, buh, buh…Mumma…"

Molly smiled. "Mumma loves you too, darling." She looked over at the clock on Arthur's bedside table; it was already after three o'clock, surely the Chudley Cannons match was over by now. That meant that soon, the house would be teeming with hungry boys again—and Molly was less than inclined to do the cooking when she felt so ill.

Ron gave a sudden wail, just as the baby kicked hard against her ribs, and Molly let out a strained breath. "Are you two always going to be my troublemakers? I thought I had Fred and George for that," she muttered, bouncing Ron.

_Taptaptaptaptap._

Molly looked over at the bedroom door. "Hello?" Slowly, the door creaked open, and a small, bespectacled face appeared in the narrow crack. Molly smiled, confused. "Come in, Percy, darling—have you all just got home?"

Percy pressed his lips together and nodded once. Keeping his hands behind his back, he stepped into the room, followed by Bill and Charlie. They formed a straight line, still hiding their hands behind them. Molly blinked.

"Boys…?"

Beaming suddenly, Percy whipped a sheet of parchment out from behind his back. In his untidy scrawl, Molly read:

MUMMY'S NIGHT OFF!

"Percy—"

Charlie produced a second piece of parchment that said:

DAD'S MAKING DINNER

And finally, Bill held up his note:

AND WE'RE PLAYING THE QUIET GAME!

Molly laughed. "Boys, what on earth—"

"Go on," whispered a voice outside the bedroom door, which opened a little further to admit Fred and George, who each had one hand on the massive Honeydukes chocolate bar they were carrying. They both had their other hands clamped firmly over their mouths. Molly stifled a giggle as they laid the candy in her lap and scampered to stand beside Percy. All five boys were fidgeting happily as Arthur stepped into the room.

"This is their thank-you," he said, bending and picking up Ron from her arms, "And mine, for letting all of us go to the Quidditch match."

Molly looked over at the boys. Fred and George nodded fervently, their hands still clamped over their mouths. "They're so quiet," she whispered to Arthur, laughing softly. "Arthur Weasley, you've done the impossible." She winked at Bill, who grinned.

Molly leaned back in her chair, rubbing her belly before peeling back the wrapper on her chocolate bar. "Anybody who's playing the quiet game, come here," she said, starting to break off little pieces. There were five excited gasps as the boys all scrambled forward. "Just one little piece, or you'll spoil your dinner," she told them, presenting a bit to Percy. He sniffed it, savoring the scent; his brothers had already crammed their pieces in their mouths and were chewing happily. Once they had finished, they all ran from the room—taking extra care to slow down and be quiet on the spiral stairs.

Arthur shook his head, just as Ron gave a wail of unhappiness. "Oh, poor fellow," Arthur said, bouncing him and sitting down on the end of the bed, facing Molly's chair. "Come on, son, it's all right…"

Molly broke off a slightly larger piece of chocolate and handed it to Arthur. "Ron and I have been having a little chat, today," she explained.

"What about?" Arthur asked, taking a bite of the chocolate before offering the rest to Ron, who cooed delightedly and stuffed it in his mouth. At once, his expression became dreamy and his eyes unfocused.

"That's my boy," she chuckled. "We were just talking about how he's going to give Freddie and George a run for their money when he's older," she explained, drumming her fingers lightly on her belly. "And so is this one, I think." She stopped short of finishing her thought, but Arthur seemed to know it anyway.

"Still think it's a girl?" he asked, grinning.

Molly arched an eyebrow mysteriously and popped another square of chocolate in her mouth; the baby didn't seem to mind candy at all. "I'd want to supervise that quiet game out there if I were you, Mr. Weasley. They could have Charlie tied up again."

Arthur snorted and shook his head, lifting a now very happy and bubbly Ron against his shoulder and getting up to leave.

"Arthur," Molly said softly, already settling back in her chair for a nap. He turned at the door and smiled. "Thanks for the chocolate."

He winked.


	4. Finally

22 September 2008 – Finally

"If Percy ever takes off on another of these long summer trips, I'll just—ooh—" Molly muttered under her breath. She fixed her hair, checking her reflection critically. Was that a new gray spot? She combed it back a bit. "I mean, what are we supposed to do?"

"Send owls every other day to say how much you miss him and Audrey?" Arthur suggested wryly, and Molly swatted his shoulder, turning away from her mirror at last.

"We haven't seen our boy in nearly six months! I'd like to know just what's so interesting about Switzerland, myself, that they can't even come home on a weekend," she said. "And I know you've missed Audrey, don't deny it—your little Muggle project assistant."

"Well, that's true," Arthur chuckled, leaning back on the bed and closing his eyes. "Come have a nap, Molly, they won't be here for an hour…"

"No, I've got to get things ready—and everyone else will be arriving sooner than that," Molly replied, standing up and patting his leg. "You can have fifteen minutes, and then I need you in the kitchen—"

"Mum? Dad?"

Arthur sat up, frowning. "Is that—?"

"Hello?"

"Percy? Audrey?" Molly cried, hurrying out of the bedroom door. She heard Arthur follow her downstairs, through the sitting room, and into the kitchen. She came to a stop. "Percy! What on earth are you doing here—you said five!" Percy was helping Audrey take off her traveling cloak in the middle of the kitchen. Molly hurried forward, prepared to hug them both—

"Audrey!" she gasped, and Arthur made a strangled noise in his throat. Audrey had turned to smile nervously at them, and as she did so, rested her hands on her very, _very_ pregnant belly.

"Hello," she said tentatively, and Percy's face reflected the same anxiety.

"Hi, Dad," he said, "Mum."

There was almost a full minute of absolute silence. Finally, Audrey broke it by stepping forward and taking Molly's hands in her own. "The thirtieth of October. It's a nice birthday, don't you think?"

And Molly burst into tears, throwing her arms about Audrey. Arthur gave a strangled laugh and embraced Percy. "Congratulations, son!"

"Thanks, Dad," he muttered, sounding a little choked. "Sorry we—"

"Didn't tell us!" Molly cried, snatching Percy in a tight hug. She was still crying. "I should be furious with you, Percy!"

"Surprise," said Audrey meekly, giggling and wiping a tear away. She hugged Arthur.

"Is this what Switzerland was all about, then?" Molly asked.

"In a way," Audrey replied, nodding and sniffling. "We—well, we found out—when?"

"Your birthday, in February," Percy said.

"Here—sit down, sit down—get off your feet, sweetheart," Molly said, immediately ushering Audrey out of Arthur's arms and into a chair at the kitchen table. She looked at Arthur, positively beaming, and he chuckled. All four of them sat down together; Percy placed one arm protectively around Audrey.

"So," Audrey continued, laughing again, "We—we found out in February—and we wanted to tell you, honestly we did—"

"It was right after she'd started a potion regimen—turned out she was already—well," Percy mumbled, turning red, "Anyway, the Healers told us that because of—" he broke off, looking to Audrey.

"Because of my…history," she said, and Molly felt her heart ache slightly as Audrey blinked very quickly, "They thought I ought to go and see some Healers out of the country, to make sure that _everything_ was looked after this time."

"But six _months_," Arthur said seriously. "Is everything all right?"

Audrey nodded slowly. "It is now. We had a few—well, worrisome weeks—but everything is fine. I'll be able to have her here, at St. Mungo's, as long as I'm careful for the next few weeks."

Molly's chin quivered, and her eyes widened. "R-really? _Her?_"

"I don't know why you're surprised, Mum, everyone's got girls," Percy chuckled, and Arthur laughed.

Molly gave a little sob, and Arthur put his arm around her. "We're so happy for you," she said. "High time, isn't it?"

"High time," Audrey agreed, patting her belly.

"And she's due on your birthday, Mum," Percy said, grinning at his wife. "Audrey's determined."

"She can arrive whenever she feels like it, and it won't make a speck of difference to me," Audrey said, though she winked at Molly.

Molly hopped up, coming around to kiss Percy, and then Audrey again. "You're here early, I'm afraid I don't have a thing ready for you—"

"Well, we wanted to beat the crowd," Percy said shrewdly.

Arthur lifted his eyebrows. "The crowd?"

"Charlie might have let slip that he was coming home for the weekend," Audrey said to Molly. "We guessed."

"I knew we shouldn't have invited him," Molly muttered, shaking her head and smirking. "He's never been able to keep a secret—ever."

Percy snorted.

"Hello? Molly? Arthur? Are you home?"

"We're in the kitchen, Harry, no need to whisper," Arthur called. "Percy and Audrey have beat us to the surprise."

"Oh, bloody hell! Did Charlie tell them?"

"Ginny, not in front of your children, for heaven's sake!" Molly cried.

"We'd best go and greet them," said Arthur, standing up.

"Don't let the little ones in here," Molly told him, as Percy helped Audrey to stand. "There are things cooking."

"Right-o, Molly," Arthur said, beaming. He wrapped an arm around Audrey, hugging her again. "Come on—"

"Just one minute," she said, ducking away from him. "Don't tell them without me!" she told Percy, shooing him into the living room. She hurried over to Molly, beaming.

"What is it, dear?" Molly asked, patting her cheek as she retrieved a saucepan from the cupboard.

Audrey smiled, blushing slightly, and rested one hand on her belly. With her other hand, she stayed Molly's movement, touching her arm gently. "I just wanted to tell you…I want to call her Molly."

Molly almost dropped the saucepan. "I beg your pardon?"

"If you'd let me," Audrey added hurriedly, "I—I'd really love to call her—Molly."

"_Let_ you," Molly repeated, her mouth falling open, "Oh, _Audrey!"_

Audrey laughed and embraced her. "You were so wonderful to me during all of the—the waiting, and the one we lost…I mean…_seven years_." She pulled back; her eyes were full of tears. "You're my family—nothing would make me happier than to call _my_ little girl after you."

Molly's eyes smarted, and she hugged Audrey again. "Thank you, sweetheart." She kissed her cheek. "Thank you."

Audrey gave another little giggle and leaned back against the counter. She took Molly's hand and placed it gently on the side of her belly. "There she is."

Molly gasped at the sudden flutter of movement under her fingers, just as Ginny came hurrying into the kitchen with eleven-month-old Lily in her arms, followed by Percy, Arthur, and Harry, who had James and Albus wandering behind him.

"I knew it! Percy, you're a terrible liar!" Ginny cried, giving a little squeal. "Oh, Audrey, I knew it! Congratulations!"

Molly beamed as they all celebrated together, and bent down to scoop up Albus before he could stick his little hands near the stove. "Like Mumma! Odd-ee!" he said jubilantly, pointing at Audrey. "Odd-ee, like Mumma!"

"That's right, like your mummy with Lily, clever boy," Molly cooed, kissing his neck. Arthur came and joined them, putting his arms around her waist.

"Everything all right?" he asked. "More tears?"

"For a very good reason," she assured him, kissing his cheek as the kitchen door swung wide, admitting yet another batch of Weasleys.


	5. Waiting

10 July 1981 – Waiting

"Mrs. Weasley? Molly? Can you hear me? It's time to wake up."

Molly opened her eyes, recoiling at bitter scent of smelling salts beneath her nose. She blinked and automatically laid her hands on her very pregnant belly. She was due to have her seventh baby in about four weeks.

"Hello," she said to Healer Hornsby, who smiled, patting Molly's shoulder; she had delivered all of the Weasley children since Percy, and though she was not on duty, had responded promptly to St. Mungo's urgent call on Molly's behalf. "How long was I sleeping?"

"Only an hour or so, while we got you taken care of," she said. "You're going to be just fine. I've sent a nurse to fetch Mr. Weasley."

Molly drew a breath, slowly and evenly, and patted her belly. The stabbing pain in her middle had disappeared, and her head had stopped spinning. "Thank you," she said, as the curtains around her bed parted, and Arthur appeared.

"Oh, _Molly_."

"Arthur—"

"How do you feel?" he asked, taking her hand and looking at her as though it had been years since they'd seen each other. "Any better?" She smiled and nodded weakly; she was very tired. Arthur looked up at the Healer. "How is she?"

"She's doing very well," said Healer Hornsby, frowning down at Molly's chart and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "We've stopped the early labor, and the baby seems to be perfectly fine, now. But…well, Mrs. Weasley, I have some concerns."

Molly swallowed, feeling a little shudder of fear run down her spine; she hadn't missed the way that the Healer had said, _now_. "Concerns?" she repeated, feeling Arthur's hand tighten on her own.

Healer Hornsby nodded. "You've had five very normal pregnancies—and I've overseen three of them. They've been exemplary, as a matter of fact. This one has been unusual for you."

"The nausea?" Molly asked.

"The nausea," agreed the Healer, "But particularly its persistence, and the fact that _this_ is the first time you've experienced false labor of this severity. We would expect this in a first pregnancy, maybe a second—but even your twins were right on schedule, more or less."

"What does all this mean?" Arthur asked, rather sharply, but Molly was grateful; she was growing more and more anxious by the moment.

"I'd like to recommend that you remain on bed rest," said the Healer.

"Oh," Molly sighed. "Is that all?" She gave a weak laugh. "I—I can do that."

"There's a bit more," the Healer continued. Arthur clutched Molly's hand. "I am concerned about how the delivery will play out. The baby is facing the wrong direction. At the moment, we have managed to ensure there is nothing other than that to suggest that the delivery will be anything other than perfectly fine—but there is a chance that yours or the baby's health could be seriously compromised if anything else goes wrong. More false contractions, for instance."

Molly stared at her. "Is there—something I can do?" she asked, wishing very much that her voice was stronger than it sounded in her own ears.

"Stay off your feet for the next four weeks, at least," said Healer Hornsby. "It's the best thing for you. Keep the strain to a minimum—I know, a tall order with the boys," she smiled. "It's not at all a good idea for you to get out of bed—so I'm also going to arrange for twice-weekly check-ups at your home until he arrives."

Molly, though she knew she should have been more concerned about the fact that the Healer _wanted_ to make house calls, rather than allow her to come in for her appointments, blinked. "He?"

"Oh," said Healer Hornsby. "I—I apologize. Some of our—well, our preliminary testing, you know, while we were tending to you—it seems to us that you're having a baby boy."

There were a few moments of silence, and it took Molly a moment to know exactly how to react. Never before had she been able to know the baby's gender before its arrival.

"Congratulations," the Healer said.

Molly looked at Arthur, who smiled. "A boy," he said quietly, and she nodded.

"I'll give you both a moment," said the Healer. "And I'll send a potion along so you can get some rest, Mrs. Weasley, and we'll be able to discharge you in the morning, as long as things stay as they are."

"Thank you," said Molly. She nodded once and disappeared through the curtains. Molly looked to Arthur. "Where are the boys?"

"I didn't think it fair to ask the Lovegoods, they've just had their—baby, so I called on Bilius," he said quietly. "I'll go back and see them when you sleep."

"Did I scare them?" she asked.

Arthur shook his head. "Billy was a little worried, but he kept it to himself for once, didn't try and scare the daylights out of the others."

Molly snorted. "Of course." She sighed heavily, closing her eyes and laying her hands on her belly. "How am I going to do this, Arthur?"

He smiled, picking up her hand and kissing it. "You'll manage. You did it for the twins."

"That was less than two weeks, not a whole month," she said. "And—what did she say?—I was _exemplary_ for them."

Arthur laughed. "You're always exemplary. That's why I like you, you know."

"Stop making me laugh," she said, giving him a gentle shove. "You'll wake him up."

Arthur laid a hand on her middle. "He's sleeping?"

Molly blinked, gazing down at his hand. "He's all tired out from giving Mummy the scare of her life."

"He'll fit right in with Freddie and George and Ron, then," Arthur said brightly. Molly smiled, feeling, in her heart, a kind of sinking sensation that she tried to ignore. There had been a part of her that had hoped, perhaps foolishly, that because of how strangely this pregnancy had affected her, she might have been expecting a girl. She had even picked out a name—or, rather, _Percy_ had helped her to pick it out, when he had asked her to read him a bedtime story…

"Seven boys," she said, trying to sound inexpressibly excited.

Arthur clearly didn't believe her. "I know you wanted a girl, darling. I'm sorry."

"Oh, don't be sorry," she insisted, smiling hard. "I'm not! Really, Arthur—I'm not. I just—well, I don't know. I was sure, this time—the Healer is right, this has been a very different sort of baby for me. And—and Fabian…" Her eyes filled with tears, and she looked away from Arthur.

"Fabian what?" he asked softly.

She shook her head, sniffing. "The—the night before—everything happened," she said, "They watched the boys, you remember? So we could go out for our anniversary?"

Arthur nodded.

"Well, you were—I think you were putting one of them back to bed, or maybe talking to Gideon and Dorcas—but it was just me and Fabian in the kitchen," she said, feeling her voice break on his name. Arthur held her hand tightly, and she tried to smile. "He just looked at me and said, 'You really ought to have a girl. I think this is the one.'"

"Oh, Molly," Arthur said. "I—I didn't know that."

"Well, the next day—" Molly blinked, feeling her tears spill over. She hiccupped, sniffling, and the baby kicked. Not sharply, as he had before—but gently. She patted the spot where he had moved. "I know, darling—you don't like it when Mummy cries."

"Nor do I," said Arthur softly.

Molly smiled at him, feeling more tears slide down her cheeks. "Well, I can't—I can't think about all that—not right now," she said. She dried her face and smiled again, this time genuinely. "We're having another baby, Arthur—another little boy."

"Seven's the most powerful magical number," he replied. "Must be good luck."

Molly nodded. "And I'll—I'll be fine," she said. "I'll take care of myself."

Arthur raised his eyebrows, feigning shock. "_Molly Prewett_ following the Healer's orders? I won't believe it until I see it."

"Oh, very funny," she said, wiping her eyes with the back of her free hand. "I've got eight Christmas sweaters to do. What better excuse could I hope for?"

"An A, a B, a C, a P, an F and a G, and an R," Arthur counted on his fingers. "Let's see…what will we call this one?"

"Septimus?" Molly asked wryly. "He'll be number seven."

"_I'm_ not calling him Septimus, but you go right ahead," he answered, and Molly chuckled. "How about Gideon? Or Fabian?"

Molly smiled at him. "Why don't we wait and meet him?" she said.

Arthur nodded, kissing her fingers. "Waiting sounds like a good plan to me."

"Mrs. Weasley? You're Mrs. Weasley?"

Molly looked up and smiled at the nurse. "That's me," she said.

The nurse held up a small bottle of a blue potion on a tray. "Healer Hornsby's sent this for you. She'd like you to sleep sooner, rather than later."

"All right," Molly replied. The nurse brought the potion forward, and watched as Molly drank the entire dose. Then she took the tray and the empty bottle and disappeared through the curtains again. Immediately, Molly began to feel very sleepy. She blinked slowly, turning her head to face Arthur. "Go and hug my boys," she murmured. "You can tell them—they have a new brother on the way."

"You want me to?" Arthur asked, rubbing her arm.

Molly shrugged. "They've never gotten to know early. It's…it's sort of…a special…er, thing. Isn't it?"

"It's really special," Arthur told her, and she smiled.

"Tell them I love them," she told him earnestly as he got up. "Don't forget that."

"Never," he replied. "You get some rest. I'll come back after they've all been put to bed. Oh—here." He reached into his pocket and tucked something into Molly's hand. "For good luck."

She looked down. He had given her a single bronze Knut. She beamed. "Thank you, sweetheart," she murmured.

"Get some sleep," he urged her.

"Make sure Ronnie has his bear," Molly said quickly, forcing her eyes open again. "He won't sleep without it."

Arthur bent over to kiss her gently. "_Sleep_, Molly. I'll be here when you wake up."

"Mhmm," she murmured. Her eyes closed again. "Me 'n Ginevra…"

"What was that, Molly?"

"Hm? Whuh?" she mumbled. She opened her eyes.

"You just said 'Ginevra,'" said Arthur. He still stood over her, smiling gently with one hand in hers. "Isn't that from one of Percy's story books? 'Princess Ginevra Slays the Giant,' isn't it?"

Molly blinked lazily at him. "'S the baby's name," she mumbled. "Baby's Ginevra."

Her last view of Arthur was his amused, curious smile, before she fell totally and soundly asleep. The next time she awoke, Arthur was by her side, snoring in a visitor's chair with one hand in hers, keeping the Knut safe between them.


	6. Rejection

12 October 1963 – Rejection

Arthur swallowed hard. He could just see the back of Molly Prewett's head from where he sat at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. She was chatting animatedly to Emmeline Vance.

"Go on, mate," said Tom McKinnon, elbowing him. "You can do it."

Arthur swallowed again; his throat was very dry. At that moment, Molly and Emmeline got up and started to leave. Arthur leapt awkwardly to his feet, almost stumbling over the bench. Molly stopped before him, looking surprised.

"Hi, Arthur," she said slowly, giving him a smile. He grinned hugely and nodded once, but didn't speak. "How are you?" she asked, still in the very slow, rather bemused tone.

"Me?" he asked. "Oh, fine, fine—I'm fine—"

"Are you fine, Arthur?" asked Tom from where he sat at the table, watching the conversation unfold, and Arthur smacked his shoulder. Emmeline giggled, and Arthur felt his cheeks and ears go red.

"Well," said Molly, clearly trying to stifle her laughter, "That's good. I'll see you in Charms, then?"

"DyouseethaHogsmeade?" he asked.

Molly stared at him. "Excuse me?"

_Damn_. He gritted his teeth. "Did you see the notice about the Hogsmeade trip?" he asked slowly.

For some reason, Molly's eyes widened. "Um…yes, I did," she replied.

He grinned. "Good, that's—that's good. Er—I mean, would you—would you maybe like to go with me? Next weekend?"

"Oh," said Molly. "Well, Arthur—I've actually been asked to go with someone already—um—Ricky? He asked me…yesterday."

Arthur felt his stomach plummet straight through the stone floor and hoped that it wasn't reflected in his face. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ricky Bobbitt sitting with a group of his Hufflepuff friends, laughing happily. "Oh," he said. "Well—okay—maybe next time," he suggested hopefully. But for what Molly said next, she might as well have ripped out his heart and crushed it underfoot.

"Oh, of _course," _she replied. She smiled and patted his arm. "That's the really great part! We're just friends, you know, so we can go together to Hogsmeade anytime we want." Somewhere off in the castle, a bell rang. "We'd better not be late," she said. "See you in Charms!" And she and Emmeline ran off.

Arthur sank back into his seat, staring at the grain of the tabletop.

"Tough break, mate," said Tom bracingly. "Better luck next time."

"Shut up, Tom."


	7. Rain

I shall not lie...this is a favorite chapter of mine. I'm twisted.

* * *

3 July 1995 – Rain

"_Where _can Percy have gotten to?" Molly asked, looking out the window as she ladled stew onto seven plates. It was pouring rain.

"He said something about being called into the Minister's office," Arthur told her, coming into the kitchen and rolling up his shirtsleeves. "So he couldn't come home with me."

"I hope it's not more about that inquiry," Molly said, shaking her head. "I know he ought to have behaved differently, but—he's young, it was just a mistake. And how was he to guess what had really happened to Barty Crouch, when the whole Ministry couldn't see it? He shouldn't have to pay for it for the rest of his career."

Arthur took two dishes to the table. "I'm sure that whatever comes of the inquiry, he won't be paying for it much longer. He was just an assistant."

Molly sighed and shook her head again, wiping her hands on her apron. She magicked the cauldron to fly up and settle itself on one end of the table, beside the rolls and sausage. "Will you call the kids and tell them to wash up?"

"Already done," Arthur grinned. He came close and kissed her. She smiled against his lips and embraced him, her arms coiling around his waist.

"Have you got all your laundry packed up for London?" she asked, pulling back and looking at him shrewdly.

"Of course," he replied.

"Aha." She narrowed her eyes, smirking. "You're worse than Ron."

Arthur bit his lip, looking thoughtful for a moment. "I've been busy at work?"

Molly smiled, blushing. He held her a bit closer. "Well, maybe just this once, I'll help you pack." She kissed him again, feeling herself relax for the first time in days. Between the end of the Triwizard Tournament, the rapidity with which things with the Order were progressing and the subsequent move to London, all in addition to the usual mayhem of transitioning from having only Percy at home to having five children in the house at once, Molly felt as though she hadn't had a moment's peace in ages. And tonight would be their last night in the Burrow for almost three months…

"Eurgh, in the _kitchen?_" Fred asked, as he and George Apparated with a great _crack_ in the doorway. "Honestly. Parents," he muttered, sitting down at the table and grinning at Molly. She reached out and swatted his head.

"I'll go and get your licenses revoked if you don't stop doing that," she told him. He just grinned cheekily, and she shook her head, returning to the counter for the bowl of jacket potatoes.

"Where's Percy?" asked Ginny as she trotted into the kitchen and sat down opposite the twins, putting her napkin in her lap.

"Late," Molly replied.

"Is he still at the inquiry?" she asked. "I thought they got that over with."

"How many times can they ask the same questions?" asked Fred.

George snorted. "_Yes, but why didn't you notice that your boss was being controlled by You-Know-Who? Oh, sorry, he just went mad for no reason whatsoever."_

"George," Molly said sharply, sitting down at the table as well.

"Oh, come on, Mum," said Fred. "You know that's exactly what it sounds like."

"Fred," said Arthur. "Listen to your mother."

"Where is Ron?" Molly asked Ginny.

She was toying with her stew. "He's burning a copy of the _Daily Prophet_. He'll be down in a minute."

"He's _burning—_in the_ house?"_ Molly demanded, standing up, just as Ron came in the room. He took one look at Molly's face and glared at Ginny.

"Why'd you tell her?" he demanded, sitting down next to Fred.

"Because I thought it was a brilliant idea," Ginny replied matter-of-factly. She looked at Molly. "You didn't see what they wrote about Harry today. Looks like there are a whole bunch of people vying for Rita Skeeter's place."

Molly was still halfway out of her seat, but sank down again, disgruntled. "Well, I don't know where she's gone, and I don't care, but I certainly don't miss her." She looked up at Ron. "Don't you dare burn anything else in your bedroom again, you understand me?"

He nodded, clearly trying not to roll his eyes, and applied himself to his stew. At that moment, the door swung open, bringing in a light mist of rain and—

"Percy, darling! Oh, dear—you're soaked, are you all right?" Molly asked. "We didn't know how long you were going to be. I'm afraid we didn't wait—"

"No, no, that's all right, Mother," he said, beaming as he pulled off his cloak. He kissed her cheek. Molly was surprised. This was happiest she had seen Percy in days. He sat down at the table and pulled the basket of rolls towards himself.

Molly looked at Arthur, bemused; Ron, Fred, George, and Ginny all seemed quite surprised as well.

"Good day at work, son?" Arthur asked.

Percy puffed himself up in a prideful sort of way. "You could say that, yes."

Molly beamed; this was a wonderful change. "Well…are you going to tell us about it?"

He swallowed and looked around the table, ensuring that he had everyone's attention. "You are all looking at the newest Junior Assistant to the Minister of Magic."

Ginny dropped her spoon and Fred choked. Ron pounded his back until he finally coughed and could breathe again. Molly felt her smile disappear. She looked across the table at Arthur, who seemed to have turned to stone. He was frozen, staring at Percy, who was still looking around impressively, clearly expecting praise.

Molly broke the silence. "They've offered you a—a promotion, Percy…really? Well—that's—that's nice, isn't it?"

"_What?"_

"George," she hissed. She turned back to Percy, who was looking a little more wary now. "Who—who offered it to you, darling?"

Percy smiled again, rather smugly. "The Minister himself. I've just left his office."

"The four of you go upstairs, right now. Fred—George—Ron—Ginny. _Now._" Arthur's tone was shockingly sharp, and he still had not removed his eyes from Percy's face. Molly was rather taken aback. She looked at the others.

"Take your plates and eat in your rooms, please," she said quietly. "Go on."

One by one, the other four took their dinner and left the room, each eyeing the table warily as they went. Finally, it was just Molly, Arthur, and Percy alone. Percy's pleased demeanor had vanished.

"What's going on?" he asked stiffly.

Arthur was quiet for a moment, removing his glasses and fixing Percy with a serious look. "I…want to ask something of you, Percy."

Percy blinked. "What's that?"

Arthur and Molly shared a glance. "I want to ask you to turn down the promotion."

"What?" Percy scoffed. "What? Turn down—turn _down_ a promotion from the Minister of Magic? Are you mad? This is—this is amazing! This is the best thing that could've happened to me! I'm barely a year out of Hogwarts, and—and even after all this trouble with Mr. Crouch, they're offering me a job in the _top office!_"

Molly touched his arm. "And sweetheart, we couldn't be prouder of that," she said. "You're a hard worker, you always have been—but perhaps _this_ job, at _this_ time—"

"This is about Dumbledore, isn't it?" Percy demanded, and the dislike in his voice shocked Molly. He glared at Arthur. "Isn't it?"

Arthur let out a slow breath. "Partly," he said. "But mostly, it's because of the stance the Ministry has taken on—on the news about You-Know-Who, and all that Harry witnessed last week. I'm sure you haven't missed the anti-Dumbledore sentiments in the Ministry lately—and the _Daily Prophet_ isn't making it easier."

"I think the _Prophet's_ got it better than you have," Percy muttered, and Molly slapped the tabletop, startling him.

"What did you just say?" she demanded.

"I said I think the _Prophet's_ right," he retorted.

"And Dumbledore's got it wrong?" Arthur asked loudly. "Dumbledore's a mad old codger, he's off his rocker?"

"Maybe so!" Percy snapped. "Maybe he is!"

"Well, then, let me tell you something," Arthur barked, and Molly was stunned, but that was nothing to the look of shock on Percy's face. Arthur almost never shouted, least of all at Percy. "Albus Dumbledore is one of the main reasons that our family, and a lot more like us, have been safe for the last fourteen years! So if he's ready to come out and tell us that danger's come back, I'm ready to believe him, and that goes double for Harry Potter!"

Percy gave a nasty laugh, quite unlike himself. "Do you know what Dumbledore said? Do you know what he told the Minister? He said that the reason Potter's acting like a raving lunatic half the time is because his _mind is connected to You-Know-Who's!_ That's completely mental! Who would believe that?"

"That boy is your brother's best friend, and he's been a friend to this family," Arthur told him. "He's never been anything but good to us—"

"Oh, right, Potter. Harry Potter, the precious one," Percy sneered; he seemed recovered from his initial terror at Arthur's fury. "I forgot how much we all _worship_ him."

"Percy, how _dare _you!" Molly shouted.

"Do you have any idea what it's been like for _me_?" Percy yelled. "I come out of school, hoping to get a _decent_ job, and all I can find is some low-level assistant work under a boss who went totally insane! No one even gave me a second glance for a promotion—and it's all down to Dad's reputation in the Ministry! He's close to Dumbledore, he's got the weirdest bloody job in the entire government—"

"Percy!" Molly gasped, horrified.

"—Why do you think we've never had money? Why do you think Dad's never had a promotion? It's not because the department's too small, it's because he's got no drive to move up and stop being a Muggle-loving lunatic!"

Shocked silence met these words. Molly felt nauseous, and Arthur had become a statue once again. Percy was absolutely red and panting from the exertion of his anger.

"I'm done struggling against Dad!" he shouted. "I'm done with it! I'm taking the job, and that's it!"

Once again, Molly broke the silence. Her voice shook. "I will not let you pass on information about our family or Dumbledore to people who want to work against us or put us in danger."

"Oh, please," Percy scoffed. "Who'd want to spy on us? We're practically nothing."

Arthur rose and slammed his fist down on the table. "This family supports Albus Dumbledore, and we support Harry Potter as well. But if you're going to deny the truth until you're facing You-Know-Who wand to wand, on your own, then so be it! I hope you _do_ have to learn it that way!" he shouted.

"Arthur," said Molly weakly. "You don't—"

Percy stood as well, fixing him with a hard glare. "See you at work."

Without another word, Arthur turned and stormed from the room, and Percy headed for the kitchen door. Molly jumped up and seized his arms, feeling tears rise. "Percy, darling—you didn't mean that—you didn't—Arthur, come back here!" she shouted. "Come—"

"_WHAT THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU ALL DOING IN HERE?"_ roared Arthur's voice in the sitting room, and Molly's stomach clenched; Ron, Ginny, Fred, and George had obviously been caught eavesdropping. She could hear the sounds of a plate breaking, followed by four pairs of feet running up the stairs.

It seemed that this was too much for Percy, who also had tears in his eyes, but wrenched himself out of Molly's grasp and yanked up his cloak. He pulled the door open. "I'll come back for my things after you've gone to London," he spat. "Goodbye, Mother." And he stepped out into the pouring rain, slamming the door so hard behind him that one of the square glass panes fell out and shattered on the floor.

Molly felt as though she was going to vomit. Her knees gave out and she dropped into a chair; her hand was shaking as she pointed her wand at the broken glass.

"_Reparo."_


	8. Kiss

19 December 1995 – Kiss

"Mum—he's going to be okay," Bill said gently, touching her arm. "Why don't you go to Grimmauld Place? You can sleep a bit, let the others know that he's all right. I'll stay with him and make sure he gets into his new ward."

"Not yet, Bill, dear," Molly replied. She ran one hand through her hair, holding Arthur's uninjured hand. Perhaps it was foolish—selfish, even, but she was not moving from this spot until she saw his eyes open, until she knew for herself that Arthur was still there, beneath the bloodstained bandages and frighteningly pale features. Her eyes lingered on his horn-rimmed glasses, which lay on the bedside table. She sighed, holding his fingers more tightly.

It had been a very, very long night, and it was not yet over. She hadn't slept since Arthur had left the house for work early yesterday morning, and now she was not sure she would be able to do so ever again. She had very nearly lost him—the Healers had told her so.

"Can I get you a cup of tea, then?" Bill asked, gently rubbing her back.

"That would be lovely, thank you, darling," she said softly. He kissed her cheek as he got up.

"Be back in a minute."

The critical care ward was hardly a private place, but Molly waited until Bill had drawn the curtains around Arthur's bed again before she closed her eyes, bringing his hand up against her cheek. "Arthur, dear…you're going to be all right…I promise…but please, wake up, sweetheart. Wake up." She opened her eyes and looked down at him. "I know you're in there, you barmy old man," she whispered, kissing his fingers.

"Heh."

She started. "A-Arthur?"

"Issthat…s'that any way to…talk to me?"

"Arthur!" she gasped, as his eyes opened slowly; it seemed to be a great effort for him to focus on her face.

"Hi, Mollywobbles," he mumbled, blinking hazily. "What're you doing here?"

She gave a weak laugh, putting a hand to his hair. "Well, they called your other wife, but she was busy."

"Ah," he said, with a serious little nod. "I see."

"Do—do you remember what happened?" Molly asked anxiously. "Any of it?"

"W'son duty," he mumbled his eyes closing. "On duty at—at the Dep—"

"Shh, shh," Molly said. "Yes, you were on duty. And then what?"

A frown creased Arthur's forehead. "Snake," he said. "Bloody, filthy, dirty great snake. Bit me, it did, the stupid—where's my arm?" he asked suddenly, looking around as though he expected Molly to pull it from her pocket.

"Your arm's still on, darling," she told him, placing a hand on his forehead and smiling tremulously. "It's all bandaged up, see?"

Arthur looked down at his own fingers protruding from the blood-spotted bandages and frowned. He wiggled them a bit. "Oh, look. That's good, isn't it?"

"Oh, darling," Molly said, shaking her head and laughing understandingly. "I think you've had a lot of medicine for pain."

"Well, that's good to know," he replied. "I thought I'd just gone mad."

"That too," she promised him. She wiped away her tears, leaned forward, and kissed his forehead. "Bill's here, sweetheart—he's going to sit with you, and then I'll come back later—"

"Where're the kids?" Arthur mumbled. "Hang on—wait a moment…" he seemed to be struggling with something that was beyond words. "Wait…wait…how did anyone know where I was? Just Dumbledore, I thought—and—and you—?"

"Harry," she said simply. "Harry had—well, Dumbledore told me that it was a dream—he had a dream about you, and the snake, and he—he went straight to Dumbledore—I don't understand much of it—"

"A dream?" Arthur's expression sobered as he forced himself to concentrate. "What?"

"He dreamt about you getting attacked," Molly said, feeling tears fill her eyes. "He saw the snake bite you—while he was sleeping, I imagine—so he went to Dumbledore—he saved your life, Arthur."

"Merlin's beard," Arthur muttered. "And…where is he? And the kids?"

"Dumbledore sent them all—er, Fred and George, and Ron, Ginny—Harry, too—to Grimmauld Place, away from Dolores Umbridge, before she could find out anything about where you were," Molly told him. "They're safe with Sirius. Bill's written to Charlie and—well, everyone knows," she finished, hoping that Arthur missed her near-mention of Percy.

He seemed to, for he closed his eyes, still holding her hand. "Thank goodness for that."

"Dad?"

Arthur's eyes opened, and he smiled as he looked at Bill, who had just reappeared through the curtains with a mug of tea in his hand and a newspaper under his arm. "Hello, son," he said merrily. "How are you?"

Bill gave a short laugh, sitting down beside Molly and looking incredibly relieved. "I'm fine—how are you?"

"Oh, brilliant," Arthur replied. "I got bitten, though."

Molly smiled and kissed his hand again. She looked at Bill, who was grinning. "Arthur, darling—I need to give the others the good news," she said gently. "Will you be all right if Bill stays with you?"

"I'll miss you," he replied, so plaintively that Molly felt her cheeks turn pink. Bill looked away.

"If you go to sleep for a bit, it'll—it'll be like I never even left," she promised. "They'll take you to a brand-new room and everything."

Arthur sighed heavily. "All right, then."

"That's the spirit," Molly whispered, leaning close and kissing his cheek. "I'll see you later. I promise."

"Where's my kiss?" Arthur whispered back, sounding put out. Molly chuckled and kissed his cheek again. "Am I your Aunt Muriel?" he asked indignantly, and Molly distinctly heard Bill snort. "I'd like a real kiss, madam."

Molly, blushing furiously, leaned over and kissed Arthur soundly—it could have been ten minutes before they finally broke apart. When they did, she sat up, fixing her hair self-consciously, and Arthur grinned stupidly at her. Bill was still turned tactfully away, skimming the _Daily Prophet_ he had brought from the tearoom.

"Don't you go anywhere, Arthur Weasley," Molly told him seriously, adjusting her cloak over her dressing gown. "I mean it."

"I wouldn't dream of it," he replied sleepily. "Mm—Molly?"

"What, darling?" she asked softly, bending over him.

"Have the Knut?" he asked.

Tears filled her eyes. "It's safe, Arthur. I promise."

He smiled dreamily. "Oh, good."

Molly straightened up and looked toward the tiny sliver of a window that was visible in the curtains. It was still quite dark outside. She glanced down at Arthur, who seemed to have nodded off again, and kissed the top of Bill's head. "Take care of him, dear," she murmured.

"No problem," he replied. "Bye, Mum."

"Bye, Mum," Arthur echoed. Molly smiled and wiped away a tear.


	9. Portrait

More cuddly Weasley kids ahead! :) Please do review, guys, it totally brightens my world!

* * *

25 December 1988 – Portrait

"All right!" Arthur called. "I've got it figured out now. It'll work, this time!"

"That's what you've said the last ten times," said George.

"Eleven," corrected Fred.

"Boys," Molly said. "Come on, all of you, sit up nice and straight—Ginny, you—"

"Coming!" Ginny said, scrambling away from the Christmas tree and hurrying into Molly's arms. "I was fixing my sweater," she said proudly, showing Molly how she'd cleaned off a tiny spot.

"Show-off," Ron muttered.

"Am not!" Ginny retorted.

"Ron, enough," said Molly sharply. "Ginny, sit down."

"All right! Everyone hold still!" Arthur said. "It's going to work! Bill, Charlie—that's it, make room for me there in the back, right between you—oh, great. And—yeah, Ron, kneel down next to George in front of your Mum's chair—no, _George—_oh, no, sorry, I meant Fred—there you go, perfect. Okay, Molly? Ginny? Ready?"

"Ready, Arthur," Molly said patiently, holding Ginny in her lap. The seven-year-old was sulking. "Come on, sweet pea, smile," she wheedled. Ginny lifted one corner of her mouth, unamused, and Molly—who was quite tired of the picture-taking after many unsuccessful attempts—gave in. She brought her lips close to Ginny's ear and whispered, "I think I might have an extra mince pie waiting for you in the kitchen."

At that, Ginny's smile became so brilliant that she had to laugh.

"That's it!" said Arthur encouragingly as he hurried away from the camera at last and hurried to put his arms around Bill and Charlie, standing behind Molly's chair. "Come on, you lot—twelfth time lucky!" he said, drawing his wand. "Everyone say 'Weasley!'"

"Weasley," they all chorused. Arthur flicked his wand and—

"Dad!" groaned the boys.

"Nothing happened," Molly said, looking up at him. "Are you sure you—"

_Flash_.

The camera snapped a photograph of Molly and Arthur, staring at each other and looking very confused. Fred and George had just collapsed onto the floor in fits of boredom—all that could be seen were their flailing arms, one of which was smacking Percy in the side of the head. Ron had slapped one hand over his face; Bill and Charlie were both rolling their eyes spectacularly; and in the very center of it all, Ginny sat primly in Molly's arms, beaming at the camera.

Naturally, Molly framed it, and the photograph didn't leave her bedside table for seventy years.


	10. Baby

Who here thinks that the Molly - Ginny - Lily bond is a force of nature? I DO! (Couldn't possibly be because I'm from a long chain of daughters, could it? XD) How much do you think it meant to Molly for Ginny to have a little girl?

* * *

9 October 2007 – Baby

Molly, out of breath and hopelessly excited, hurried up to Ginny's kitchen door and knocked, very gently. A soft early-autumn breeze blew past, and she tugged her traveling cloak tighter about her shoulders. Finally, Arthur opened the door and beamed tiredly at her. She rushed into his arms.

"A girl?" she whispered happily, as he kissed her cheek, helping her remove her cloak.

"A very beautiful girl," Arthur promised. "But, Molly—"

"Wait until you see Hugo," she gushed. "He's absolutely Ron—but with Hermione's eyes, can you imagine it? He's precious, Arthur, I just—" She looked around; arrival of a new baby or not, whenever she walked through the door of this house, she was used to being greeted by the war cries of at least two, but usually three small boys. "Where are James and Albus and—Teddy? Wait a moment, where's—where's Harry?"

"The boys are with Andromeda," said Arthur as he took her hands, smiling in a way that made Molly rather nervous. He brought her to sit down at the kitchen table. "There's something I need to tell you, sweetheart—"

Molly felt her stomach plummet. "The baby," she whispered.

"The baby is perfectly healthy," he promised her. He did not look tearful or overly upset—this did something to calm Molly's nerves, but not much. "Ginny has—"

"Ginny," she repeated, "Ginny _what?"_

"I'm trying to tell you," Arthur said patiently. "Ginny's had a complication—that's why the baby came so late. She's going to have to stay in bed for the next few weeks, take it easy—"

"Why?" Molly asked at once.

"I don't know the specifics," he replied, hiding a faint smile, "But I'm sure you can ask our daughter when she wakes up. She is going to be just fine, I promise you—she was joking around with Harry and me at the crack of dawn, before she fell asleep. He's sitting with her now."

At that moment, Harry came into the kitchen, his face alight with a grin. "She's awake, Arthur—oh—hi, Molly!" he said happily, coming over and kissing her; he could have been levitating. "Everything all right at the hospital? What's the baby's name?"

"H-Hugo," Molly sputtered, a little shocked as Harry prepared a tea service. "He's—he looks just like Ron…"

Harry grinned. "That's spectacular!" he said ecstatically, rapping the whistling kettle with his wand. It poured itself into the teapot. He looked at Arthur. "Boys get out all right?"

Arthur nodded. "Andromeda says they can stay the night if you need it, as well."

Harry rubbed his chin. "I'll ask Ginny how she's feeling…that's great, just great…Molly, you're all right?" For Molly was frozen in the act of standing up to embrace Harry sympathetically, but now she was very confused. Harry looked at Arthur. "Did you make it sound dire?"

"I tried not to," Arthur replied. "I told you I'd muck it up."

Harry came over, still smiling (though in a more reassuring, less manic way), and kissed Molly's cheek gently. "Ginny is _fine_," he promised. And, because she had believed him for so many years—because she had trusted him implicitly from the day he had told her how much he loved Ginny—Molly relaxed.

"She is," she repeated softly, and Harry nodded.

"She's not feeling her best at the moment, and won't be for a couple of weeks, Lavender says," he admitted, "But the baby's healthy, and Ginny's going to be absolutely fine."

He turned and flicked his wand. Three teacups and saucers flew from the cupboard and settled themselves on the tray beside the steaming pot of tea. "Why don't you both go upstairs and say hello to your granddaughter?" he asked, picking up the tray and placing it in Arthur's hands.

Harry and Arthur followed Molly through the kitchen door to the stairs. Molly got halfway up, following Arthur, before she turned suddenly to face Harry again. "Her name," she said, "What's her name?"

Harry blinked, his smile slipping for only a half second—or did his chin tremble? "Lily," he told her. "Lily Luna."

Molly smiled and followed Arthur the rest of the way up the stairs, coming to a stop at Harry and Ginny's bedroom door. She knocked once.

"You don't need to knock, Harry," said Ginny's voice, and Molly smiled even more; she sounded very tired, but joking and teasing was always a good sign.

"It's not Harry," Molly replied, opening the door. "It's just us—but if you'd rather we left…"

"Mum," said Ginny happily. "Oh, Daddy, thank you," she added as he brought the tea tray in and set it on the bedside table beside a wide variety of potions. She lay in the center of the big bed, cradling a small bundle of flowery yellow blankets, from which one small hand protruded.

"How's she doing?" Arthur asked, kissing Ginny's head gently and reaching out one finger to stroke Lily's hand. He settled himself on a chair next to the bed, leaning close. "Hello, sweet pea—hello, Lily…"

Ginny smiled and looked up at Molly, who stood at the end of the bed. "She doesn't bite hard," she said, arching an eyebrow and smirking. She patted the empty space on the bed beside her. "Come say hi, Granny."

And though it certainly didn't sound like it, Molly knew that what Ginny wanted right now was to curl up beside her own mother, just like Lily was doing with her. Very slowly, she approached the bed and sank down on the mattress, moving close to Ginny, who relaxed gratefully against her. Molly leaned over to peer into the tiny, pink face. "Oh, Ginny," she whispered. Lily's eyes were wide-open and a lovely shade of light brown. She blinked once, frowning up at Molly.

Ginny let out a slow sigh; she seemed to be trying not to move very much, but tipped her head away from the pillow to rest on Molly's shoulder. She seemed to have a bit of a low fever, but Molly could fix that. She kissed the top of her head gently.

"How did I do, Mummy?" Ginny asked quietly. She looked exhausted, thrilled, and, yes, a bit ill—but mostly, she was happy.

Molly leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "You did beautifully, darling."

"Agreed," Arthur replied in a rather tight voice, and Ginny gave a short laugh and rubbed his arm.

"I don't know what you were so worried about, Arthur, really" Molly said to him, smiling as she watched her daughter coo at Lily—_her_ daughter. "They're just fine."


	11. Advice

This is a kind of pre-quel to a chapter from "The Photograph Album," just so you know :)

* * *

23 January 2028 – Advice

The knock at the door came very early that morning; Molly was only half-awake while she cooked breakfast when she pulled open the kitchen door and saw, to her surprise, Harry. It was freezing out, and the ground was thick with snow that had fallen overnight.

"Harry, dear—my goodness, it's early," she said. "Come in, come in—Arthur," she called, going to the sitting room doorway. "Arthur, your breakfast! Harry, do you—do you want something to eat? Coffee? Tea?"

"No, Molly, thanks, nothing," he replied, stamping the snow off his boots on the mat and removing his cloak. He kissed her cheek and gave her a strained kind of smile. "How are you?"

"We're just fine," Molly replied, watching him closely. "Is—is everything all right? Ginny—"

"What? Oh—oh, yeah," he said. "No, everything's all right—I, uh—well, I sort of…I wanted a word. With you and Arthur."

Molly blinked. "Of course, dear…let me just see…" she walked away from the stove and poked her head into the sitting room. "Arthur! "

"I'm coming," he called back. He sounded as though he were hurrying down the stairs. "Coming, coming!"

Molly shook her head and started dishing up the eggs and bacon onto two plates. "Are you sure you won't have any? Sit down, dear, sit down."

"Right, thanks," said Harry. He moved to the table and seated himself. "I'm fine, Molly."

Arthur came into the kitchen, humming lightly, and spotted Harry. "Harry! I didn't know you were here!"

Molly gave Harry an exaggerated, long-suffering look, and he smiled. "He's come to have a chat with us, Arthur." She picked up her tea and brought it with the breakfast plates to the table, sitting down and tucking her napkin in her lap.

"Is everything all right?" Arthur asked, frowning. "With Ginny, the kids? How's Lily?"

"No, they're all fine," Harry assured him. "And Lily's feeling much better, Lorcan's looking after her—but the Healers are actually hoping that if this part of the new treatment works out, they'll be able to give her the second half around March, and then she'll be done. She'll have her voice back."

"Oh, wouldn't that be wonderful?" Molly sighed. "It feels like ages that she's been suffering with all of that awful business."

"Almost two years," Harry nodded, looking grim. Lily had had a terrible accident, competing in the Triwizard Tournament in her final year at Hogwarts. A graphorn's tusk had sliced her throat open, and she bore several large scars across her neck and arm, but the worst of it all was that her voice was constantly giving out. She would go days or weeks without being able to speak at all and have to have a temporary remedy, until her regular Healer at St. Mungo's had come up with a possible way to mend it permanently.

"Hard to believe it's been that long since she and Hugo and Roxy left school," Arthur said, shaking his head.

Molly smiled. "Now there's just Lucy! I can't believe she's our last granddaughter at Hogwarts."

"Weird," Harry agreed, chuckling. "I still remember when Percy and Audrey found out they were going to have her." Molly reached out and patted his hand.

"But you're not here for all that," she said. "What's going on, Harry?"

Harry blinked, going silent for a moment. "I—I had…a visit yesterday, and…well—I was hoping for some advice."

Arthur frowned, sitting forward. "All right."

"Go on, dear," said Molly.

Harry wouldn't look at her as he spoke, instead staring at the broom that leaned against the wall. For a fleeting moment, Molly saw not the grown-up, adult Harry, but the eleven-year-old boy from King's Cross, whom she always remembered.

"My cousin…Dudley, you remember? He—he sort of turned up, unexpectedly, at the house. And, y'know, normally he refuses to come over, but I knew that—I don't know, something was wrong, obviously, because he was there."

Molly was rather confused. "All right," she said. "And what was it?"

Harry met her gaze. "My aunt…fell, this week. I guess she just stumbled and hurt her hip, which has happened before, I think, but they had to take her to the Muggle hospital and…when they were tending to her, they just…they found that a lot of things were wrong with her."

Molly looked at Arthur. It felt as though years and years had gone by since the last time Harry or his upbringing or the Dursleys had ever come up in a conversation.

"I know how you two feel about…that particular branch of my family," said Harry.

"Oh, Harry," Molly said at once, "That—that doesn't matter at all—"

"But I really do need your help," he interrupted. He swallowed, and there was a moment of silence.

"How can we do that, Harry?" asked Arthur quietly. He took Molly's hand.

Harry looked away again. "I—I hope it's been clear to you—I mean, I hope that—" He took a breath. "I think of you both…as parents. Certainly a lot more than I've ever thought that of my aunt or uncle, but even, in some ways—even next to Sirius, or Remus…"

Molly's mouth fell open slightly. She looked at Arthur, whose expression was very tender.

Harry closed his eyes. "My aunt is dying," he said, and it was a statement of fact; he was not emotional about it. "I mean—possibly. It could be a while before it happens, but…she's not got very long, Dudley says. And I have this chance to go and talk to her one last time before she goes. I'm pretty sure she—doesn't want to see me, but I think Dudley wants me to go—and—I don't know, I sort of…I want to talk to her. I feel like I ought to, anyway." He looked at Molly and Arthur. "What do you think?"

Molly let out a slow breath. "Well, dear…I'm afraid it's not what _we_ think that matters, here."

"Although it's true, we're not exactly unbiased in this particular instance," said Arthur. "It's been a long time since you've seen her, hasn't it?"

"About…fifteen years? She met Lily, I know that," he said, shaking his head. "That was weird. And I hadn't seen her before that since I left Little Whinging."

Molly shared a look with Arthur. Then she reached out and took Harry's hands. "Harry, dear—you know you're important to us—as much as we are to you, if not even more. But…I'm afraid that we can't just tell you what's right, here."

He nodded. "I don't know if I ought to just leave her alone, or—or make some kind of effort, if that's even worth the trouble." He paused for a moment. "It's my mother's birthday next week." He shook his head as though trying to clear it. "I think that's part of all this, too."

Molly opened her mouth to speak, but was surprised when Arthur cut her off. "Harry," he said firmly, "If there's one thing I've know about you for—well, just about from the moment I met you, it's that you, by virtue of having a good heart, and a good conscience, have very good judgment. I trust your judgment, and I support it, wherever it leads you."

Harry blinked, and Molly smiled slightly.

"We wouldn't let just anyone marry Ginny and raise our grandchildren," she told him with a wink. "Even the Chosen One."

"I think you already know your answer to what you want to do, even if you haven't realized it yet," Arthur continued. "And Molly and I are going to support you, any way you decide to go."

"Your aunt—Petunia," Molly said, "And your life with her and your uncle—they're your business, your affair entirely. You're allowed to react to this situation any way you want to. We're here for you, whatever happens. And I know Ginny would say the same thing."

Harry gave a short laugh, looking down at his folded hands. "She has." Molly beamed. "Thanks," he said, "Both of you. This…it helped to talk it through. Thanks for listening."

"Of course, dear," said Molly.

"We're always around," Arthur agreed, as Harry got up and pulled on his cloak. He stopped at the door, holding it open for a moment.

"I—I'll see you tomorrow night for dinner," he said.

"Wouldn't miss it," Molly replied.

Harry grinned, looking exactly like his little boy self again. He seemed to teeter for a moment on the edge of speech. "Well—bye," he said quickly, and he disappeared, the door clicking shut behind him.

Molly sighed and shook her head, looking over at Arthur, who was eating his breakfast. She sat very still and quiet for several minutes, until he looked up at her in concern. She lifted her chin. "Petunia Dursley doesn't have any idea what she's lost," she said coolly, picking up her own fork. "And I feel very sorry for her."

Arthur nodded seriously. "So do I."


	12. Date

14 December 1964 – Date

The snow was just beginning to fall over the Hogwarts grounds as Molly and Arthur walked back from Hogsmeade. Molly held her miniature bouquet of Honeydukes sugar flowers, beaming. "I had a really nice time with you, Arthur," she said nervously, coming to a stop and facing him. He had gotten so tall in the past few months that she actually had to look up to meet his gaze.

He grinned. "Even with your little brothers popping up when we were trying to leave the castle?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes. "They're first years, what do they know? Little gits," she scoffed. "Anyway, we had a nice time in the village." She plucked one pink flower and pulled off a petal, popping it in her mouth and handing the rest of the blossom to Arthur. "Thank you for these. They're my favorite."

"Candy and flowers," Arthur shrugged. "Isn't that what you're supposed to get a girl on your first date?" Molly felt herself turn bright pink and looked away. Arthur cleared his throat, embarrassed. "I had a really nice time with you too," he murmured.

"Maybe the next one, after Christmas—" she began hopefully, but then she broke off, looking around in the snowy trees. They were just on the edge of the grounds, in sight of the lake and the castle. She could have sworn that she had just heard a twig snap, as though someone was nearby.

Arthur didn't seem to have heard anything. "Are you…saying you'd like to go again?" he asked.

Molly smiled. "I…I would," she said. "If you wanted to."

He looked inexpressibly excited. "Oh, Molly—I'd love to!" he said enthusiastically, and she laughed.

"All—all right then," she agreed, taking his hand. "It's a date."

"A date," Arthur repeated, looking down at their interlocked fingers. Then he looked up at her, his blue eyes suddenly magnetic. Molly couldn't look away if she wanted to. "Molly?" he asked.

The air around them seemed to have gone totally silent.

"Yes?"

"Can I—kiss you?"

"All right." Molly closed her eyes just as Arthur's lips touched hers—and the entire snowy forest seemed to explode around them with warm air and sunshine—Molly felt as though she were flying, soaring above Hogsmeade, above Hogwarts, high into the sky—

"Eurgh!"

"Ouch!" Arthur cried, as a snowball smacked his ear, abruptly ending their kiss. He looked around, and so did Molly. Over in the bushes, she could see two identical red heads poking up out of a nearby shrub.

"Have you been waiting for us?" she screeched. "I'm going to _kill you_!" And she charged towards her brothers, as Arthur roared with laughter.


	13. Flying

Nobody freak out! I know this is their wedding day and I usually save those for the end, but I have something really special planned for chapter 32... :)

* * *

30 June 1970 – Flying

Molly lay in bed, wide-awake, though she knew that she had to sleep. Her mind was racing with a thousand different thoughts. Her mother and father, with whom she had argued so terribly about Arthur just the other day…what were they going to do in just a few hours when they came upstairs and found her bed empty? She should never have talked Arthur into this—it was a terrible idea, what were they thinking? They were only nineteen, they were inexperienced in the world, they barely had steady jobs—

And they were made for each other.

_Made for each other_. What a funny expression, Molly thought, as though people came out of some great machine that made them in pairs—but it was how she had always felt about Arthur. At first, it had been some silly joke among the girls in her year—Emmeline, especially, had always teased her that she ought to go out with Arthur, because their red hair _matched_. But they grew up alongside each other, year by year, all through school, and Molly began to wonder if there wasn't a bit of magic in their coincidental friendship.

This day was almost a year in the (extremely secret) making—two, if you counted the time they were _preparing_ for their engagement. They had wanted jobs before anything else, of course. They agreed that they flat-out _needed_ to start off with some money of their own if they didn't have their parents' approval to marry, so doing an impetuous run to apply for a marriage license was off the books—though Arthur had fought hard for it. Instead, he found a job in the Ministry, and Molly got one in her mother's ward, nursing at St. Mungo's. It was difficult to see very much of each other, and for almost two years, most of their communication was in quick meetings at the Leaky Cauldron and short notes to one another.

And yet somehow, it seemed like only weeks had gone by since the last day they had spent together at Hogwarts.

Molly closed her eyes, trying to calm her nerves. This was what she wanted; this was _all_ she had wanted, for—well, for a very long time. But then _why_ did she feel so utterly petrified?

She heard the sudden tap of a pebble at her window and stiffened. Was it five o'clock already? She quietly slid out of bed and crept to the window, where the sky was just beginning to get light, and opened it. Down in her parents' garden stood Arthur, smartly dressed in new robes and grinning at her. He held up a bouquet. Molly smiled back nervously, feeling herself melt.

"One minute," she whispered, and she hurried back into her room. Yesterday, Arthur had given her a box from Madam Malkin's—an early wedding present. She dressed quickly in the cream-colored silk robes, but paused, looking down at her vanity table. A single Knut lay there. She smiled and picked it up, then hurried to return to the window. Arthur was still waiting with his bouquet. His jaw dropped.

"Wow."

"Shh," Molly insisted. "I'm coming down." He nodded as she ducked inside once more, turned on the spot, and Apparated directly beside him a moment later. "Hello," she whispered, standing on tiptoe and kissing his cheek.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

Molly swallowed hard, but nodded. She turned and looked up at her house. "I'll be back soon," she said, trying to joke. Arthur didn't believe her; he took her hand in his and smiled. He felt the Knut that she held.

"If you aren't ready—if you're really sure they'll—they'll do something drastic, when we come back and tell them—" he began, but Molly quickly shook her head.

"This is what I want," she insisted, though she wished she felt it a little more strongly in her churning stomach. "I—I think I was born ready."

Arthur smiled. "I'm scared too."

"Of having me for a wife?" Molly teased.

"Well, no…that part sounds pretty great," he admitted. For a moment, they were quiet, simply staring into each other's eyes…all the pain and sorrow of the horrible news that was flying around nowadays—Muggles being killed, the Dark Mark appearing over the homes of people they knew and loved, werewolves attacking without the full moon—it all seemed to hang in the space between them, threatening to tear them apart.

"How do you feel about children?" Molly asked. It wasn't as though they'd never discussed it, but this conversation was a comfortable one—one that didn't involve the utterly mad act of actually leaving her front garden to go and get married.

Arthur grinned. "They're sort of soft and squishy, don't you think?" Molly stifled her laughter behind her hand, and he linked their fingers together. "So are you _really_ ready, or are you going to wait until after this is all done with to tell me about your other boyfriend?"

Molly shoved his shoulder. "I would never, Arthur Weasley."

Arthur looked stunned. "You wouldn't? Well—then I should—I guess I should probably tell you about my other wife…"

"Shh!" she told him, barely able to control her laughter.

"It's not me giggling, is it?"

"I'm going to—"

"Spend the rest of your life with me?" he interrupted, lifting one eyebrow.

Molly narrowed her eyes. "Suave. Very suave."

"Why, thank you," he replied, brushing one hand carelessly through his hair. Molly shook her head, feeling a sudden, overwhelming rush of love for Arthur, and she wrapped her arms around him. He seemed surprised at first—but then he relaxed and embraced her just as tightly.

Molly felt tears come to her eyes and shut them quickly, not wanting to ruin her makeup. She blinked hard and looked up at him. He smiled at her.

"Will you marry me, Arthur?"

He grinned even more widely. "Yes, Molly, I will."

And arm in arm, they walked down the road to catch the Knight Bus—though if anyone had asked Molly, she would have said that they flew.


	14. Anger

22 June 1996 – Anger

Molly held Arthur's hand tightly as they walked down the hospital corridor; in her other hand she clutched a bouquet of flowers from the garden at the Burrow. "I don't know about this, Arthur," she whispered, coming to a stop and facing him. "I still say we ought to try to talk to Remus—"

"We're not going after him on that mission, Molly," Arthur replied firmly. "And meanwhile, Tonks is here alone, thinking that he's coming to see her."

"But that letter he sent us—" Molly began.

"I'm not saying it was right, and I can certainly promise you that Remus and I will be having words about it when he's back," he said, "But there's nothing we can do at the moment. I know you care about Tonks too much to leave her alone like this. He asked us to visit her and apologize for him—we can at least do that."

"_I'm_ not apologizing for his behavior, he can do it himself," Molly muttered darkly, but she shook herself and stopped the nearest nurse. "Excuse me, I'm looking for Nymphadora Tonks, please? We were told she was in this ward…"

"Down the corridor, second on the left," the nurse replied. "I believe her parents are with her."

"Oh," said Molly. She looked around at Arthur. "Should we come back later?"

"Not at all—I remember Ted," he said happily. "Nice chap—was very interested in taking Muggle Studies, though I think he was a Muggle-born—imagine it! Come along, Molly."

He took tighter hold of her hand and led the way down the hall to the room that the nurse had indicated, and knocked gently on the door.

"Come in," said an unfamiliar male voice.

"Hello," Arthur said brightly. He stepped aside, so that Molly could enter. "Ted Tonks, how are you?"

"Arthur Weasley!" said a large, jovial-looking man whom Molly did vaguely recognize, now she saw him—a Hufflepuff, if she remembered correctly, several years younger than Arthur and herself. "And Molly Prewett! How good to see you," he said, shaking Arthur's hand, and then Molly's. "Dora's been telling us for months about you both, I'm sorry it couldn't have been sooner that we saw each other."

"And that it's not a nicer setting."

Molly looked around Ted and Arthur to the bed where Tonks lay. Her hair was the same shade of brown as her mother's, and though she looked drawn and a bit paler than usual, she beamed at Molly. Her mother, Andromeda—who had spoken—stood beside her, smiling tiredly. Molly's first thought was that she looked a great deal like Bellatrix, but the vast differences between them were instantly clear. Andromeda had smooth brown hair lightly touched with gray, kind, warm eyes, and her expression was very gentle.

"I'm Andromeda Tonks," she said, extending one hand to shake Molly's. "I do think I remember you from Hogwarts as well, although Nymphadora has told us a great deal about you. Thank you for being so kind to my daughter."

"Mum," Tonks muttered, blushing slightly.

Molly turned to her at last, smiling. Tonks held up one hand and she took it. "And how are you, miss?"

She didn't seem able to lift herself, but she shrugged gently. "I've felt worse," she said, as Andromeda settled herself on the mattress beside her again. It was obvious she had been perched there for some time; there was exactly the right amount of space for her to sit beside Tonks and keep an arm around her. Tonks rested her head on her mother's shoulder. "Are those flowers for me, Molly?"

"Of course," she replied, beaming.

"I'll take them," Ted offered, and he conjured a vase, filling it with water and setting it on the bedside table.

"We did hear all about it," Arthur said from the foot of the bed. "We're sorry we couldn't have helped you all."

"We should have been there," Molly agreed, patting Tonks's hand.

"Only we could've found our way there in time," Tonks replied, shaking her head. "I don't think you know the interior of the Department that well, do you?"

"Not particularly, no," Arthur smiled.

"Arthur's never liked the Unspeakables," Molly told her, winking at him.

Tonks snorted, then winced slightly, turning white and squeezing Molly's hand suddenly. To cover this, Andromeda looked significantly at Ted. "Why don't you get the Weasleys chairs, dear?"

"Oh, right—sorry," Ted replied quickly, flicking his wand. Two comfortable chairs appeared on one side of the bed. "Make yourselves at home," he said, gesturing for Molly to sit down.

She did, still holding Tonks' hand, and Arthur sat down beside her.

"Anyway," Tonks breathed, after a moment. "Ginny and Ron are all right?"

Molly nodded. "Thanks to you all," she said. "I understand that Hermione and Ron are still in the hospital wing, but they'll be just fine—all six of them that were there."

"Good," Tonks sighed, smiling. Then she reached up one hand and touched her mother's, which was draped protectively around her shoulders. "Mum, Dad—can I talk to Molly and Arthur alone for a minute?"

Andromeda looked startled. "Oh—well, darling, can you—?"

"I can manage," Tonks insisted gently, though the note of impatience in her voice reminded Molly of Ginny. Tonks smiled at her father. "Please—just a minute. Go and have a cup of tea."

Ted chuckled. "Our girl, the Auror. Come on, 'Dromeda, she can look after herself for a bit."

"Stay still," Andromeda murmured to Tonks as she got up, kissing her hair. She smiled in a strained way at Molly and Arthur before following her husband from the room and closing the door.

Tonks let out a little sigh and looked at Molly. "So the kids are okay? I didn't know the boy who was with Harry, but there wasn't really a moment for introductions…"

"Poppy wrote to me to say that our two have come out perfectly all right—though Ginny wrote to me as well, she said Hermione is a little more the worse for wear than anyone else, poor dear," Molly answered. "As for the others, one was Xenophilius Lovegood's daughter—she's a good friend of Ginny's. The other was Neville Longbottom."

"L-Longbottom?" Tonks repeated. "Wait—I know that name—"

"Most of the Aurors do," Arthur said heavily.

"They're—but they're the married couple, the ones—oh." Tonks put a hand over her mouth. "Oh, no."

Molly was quiet for a moment. "Was she—there, then?"

Tonks blinked up at the ceiling and nodded once. "I met my auntie for the first time," she said with heavy irony. "It was…well, it was almost exactly the family reunion one might have anticipated." She wrapped her free arm around her middle and adjusted herself slightly on the bed. "Damn it, I'm tired of sitting here."

"Bellatrix did this to you?" Arthur asked.

Tonks nodded again, swallowing hard. "Right before she—before she got Sirius, apparently. I was unconscious. Kingsley told me about it, when he was here yesterday. Mum's really upset."

Molly looked down; for all of her disagreements with Sirius, she had truly liked him a great deal. His loss seemed to settle over them, and all three were silent for a long time.

Then Tonks looked around, breaking the quiet. "Er—don't tell my mother that, please—about Bellatrix? I've told her I don't know who it was that cursed me. I'll tell her the truth later on," she insisted, at Molly's frown. "I just can't see her face if I did it now, while I'm stuck lying here. She'd probably go out and hunt her down herself."

Molly felt a flicker of heat chase down her spine; she wouldn't have minded joining Andromeda. Instead she patted Tonks's hand again. "We're glad that the rest of you are all right," she said, swallowing a lump in her throat.

Tonks frowned for a moment. "Speaking of which…you haven't heard from Remus, have you?"

The hope that she was trying so hard to hide in her voice was heartbreaking—so much so that Molly wanted to lie, but she looked at Arthur. "He's, erm—he's left on his mission—to the werewolves. He wrote to us to tell you—that—that he's sorry he can't come and see you."

"What?" Tonks blinked. "R-really?"

"Apparently, Dumbledore wanted him to start sooner, rather than later," Arthur added. "But he should be back very soon." Molly shot him a smile; this part was untrue, so far as they knew, but perhaps it could soften the blow.

"I—thought that—after the other night…" Tonks shook her head. Tears were forming in her eyes. "I'm sorry," she whispered, trying to get control again—it clearly hurt her a great deal to cry, for she was squeezing Molly's hand fiercely.

"Don't cry, dear, don't," Molly insisted, wrapping her other hand around Tonks's as well. "It's going to be all right…"

"Of course," Tonks replied, shaking her head; she was calming down. "No—no, of course—it's just—" she drew a steadying breath, "—Remus was—he was here, when I woke up. He was the first one here, before they'd reached my parents, he brought me from the Ministry…and…I—I might have said something—foolish."

Molly lifted her eyebrows and looked at Arthur; that couldn't be good—Remus was already extremely wary when it came to Tonks. "Well," Molly said bracingly, "You're not in any good way to worry about that right now. You need to get well, and—and then you can come over to the Burrow, and we'll talk all about it."

Tonks gave a watery smile, wiping her tears away. "Right—thanks, Molly." She was quiet for a moment. "Have you—have you seen Professor McGonagall—Minerva?"

Molly shook her head. "Is she still here?"

"Professor Sprout came to see me this morning. Apparently, she's just across the hall," Tonks replied. She sounded much, much more tired now, and she looked terribly exhausted. "I'm sure she'd like to see a familiar face, as well."

It wasn't a brush-off, but Molly recognized that for the moment, Tonks wanted to be alone with her thoughts. She smiled gently. "We should let you sleep, anyway. You'll write to me as soon as you want to talk, won't you?"

"Our door is always open," Arthur said seriously. Molly looked around at him in mild surprise; he was rarely openly emotional over anyone but his own children, but his voice was rather constricted as he spoke. She took his hand. It had been a hard few days for everyone in the Order.

"Thanks, both of you," she said. Then she bit her lip. "Maybe you can convince my parents to step out for lunch? My mother hasn't left this room in two days."

Molly chuckled, rising. "I'll see what we can do. You rest."

Tonks nodded, accepting a gentle hug from Arthur. "I'll see you in a few days—Dumbledore will want a meeting, I'm sure, once McGonagall's out—she's worse off than I am."

Molly clucked her tongue, shaking her head sadly, and bent to hug Tonks as well. "We'll see you soon, dear. Try—try not to worry about Remus."

Something darkened in Tonks's features, but she smiled, raising one hand slightly to wave as Molly and Arthur left the room. Once they were outside, they couldn't see Ted or Andromeda anywhere, but they did see—

"Pomona," Arthur said, and the short little witch, who was just leaving a room across the corridor, turned.

"Oh—hello," she said, in an exhausted sort of voice. They met in the middle of the corridor. "How are you, Arthur? Molly? I trust you've heard your children are all right?"

"We have, thank you, Pomona," Molly said kindly.

"I'll tell you, the castle's in an uproar," she said, shaking her head. "Albus is back—Dolores Umbridge is on her way out—"

"And not soon enough," Arthur interrupted darkly, and Pomona scowled.

"I couldn't agree more."

Molly nodded over her shoulder to the private room she had just left. "How is Minerva?"

Pomona turned around to stare at the closed door, as though she had only just remembered why she was there. "She's—well, she's better."

"Is she awake? The last we'd heard, she hadn't…" Arthur said slowly, but Pomona nodded.

"She finally came round yesterday, thank Merlin, it was getting a little worrisome. I'm afraid she didn't take all the news very well," she said. "But I think she'll be up and about soon—or at least, she's determined she will be. I'm off to answer a letter to her brother. He's offered her a place to stay for the summer while she recuperates." She held up a piece of parchment that Molly had not noticed before. "She's a bit tired from her treatment, but would you like to say hello? I'm sure she'd be happy to see you."

Molly looked up at Arthur. "We wouldn't want to disturb her—"

"Oh, she's had quite a bit of medicine, I doubt anything can disturb her at the moment," Pomona said slyly, and Molly smiled. "Go on."

Molly looked at Arthur, who shrugged as if to say, _Why not?_ So, Molly nodded and Pomona brought them to the door, which she opened quietly and peered in.

"Go right in, she's awake," she whispered, withdrawing and nodding. Molly and Arthur entered as Pomona left, shutting the door again after herself.

The luminescent crystal bubbles on the ceiling were dimmed in here, and the blinds drawn, presumably for Minerva's comfort. Minerva herself lay in the bed, her face absolutely colorless; she was worse off than Severus's reports had indicated, that much was evident. She raised her head slightly, looking around at them. "Pomona? Oh—Molly, Arthur," she said, looking confused but smiling weakly in a manner quite unlike herself. "How are you?"

"Well, thank you," Molly said gently. "How do_ you_ feel?"

Minerva's forehead creased as she shut her eyes. "I've been better. I feel very foolish."

"Not at all," Arthur told her. "We've heard about what happened. It sounds like anything we would have done. It was very brave."

She snorted gently. "I hope I've taught my students better than to be as headstrong as I am." She seemed to force herself to open her eyes. "I imagine I'll see you at a meeting, soon…I'm sure we'll talk about—well, everything that's happened. But the children—Bill and—no—oh, dear—"

"Ron and Ginny," Molly told her. "They're both fine, thank you for asking."

Minerva shook her head drowsily, clearly frustrated that she wasn't more lucid. "Those two, yes. You've had several, you know. They're well. Yes?"

"Yes," Molly assured her. "And I'm told that the other four—Harry, and Hermione, Neville—and the Lovegood girl, Luna—they're going to be fine, as well."

Minerva twitched an eyebrow. "I'd rather see that for myself," she muttered. Molly had the impression that she was thinking more of Harry than anyone else. Minerva looked terribly tired, so Molly nodded to Arthur.

"I think we'll leave you to rest," he said kindly. "It's good to see you."

And, unexpectedly, Minerva put her hand out and grabbed Molly's arm with surprising strength. "I _am_ sorry that I couldn't stop them from leaving the school, Molly," she said. "It was foolish of me to—to get myself—"

"Minerva," she replied, startled. "It's all right."

"I'm sorry," Minerva insisted.

"They're not seriously hurt," Molly told her. "They're all going to be fine." But even as she said it, she found herself blinking back tears. She took Minerva's hand and placed it gently on the bed again. "Try to rest, please—we'll see you very soon."

As if on command, Minerva sighed, closed her eyes, and spoke no more. Molly swallowed and pressed her palm to her forehead, closing her eyes for a moment. Then she took Arthur's hand. "Let's go home," she said heavily.

They left the room and walked in silence down the corridor. Arthur kissed the top of her head gently as they left the ward, and, finally, Molly could bear it no longer.

"Is this what our lives are, now?" she burst out, coming to a stop outside the doors. She faced Arthur, torn between fury and tears. "Visiting friends who have been injured and put in the hospital, wondering how our _own_ children are? What is this, Arthur?" she demanded. "First—first you, and now Tonks, and Minerva, and Ron and Ginny and Harry and Hermione and every single other person—"

He embraced her tightly, stifling all speech. "I know," he said. "I know."

"It's taken barely a year for all of this to happen—just one," Molly said angrily, stepping back and wiping a tear from her cheek. "How much longer is this going to go on?"

"I don't know," Arthur said honestly. "But the important thing to remember is that all of them—Tonks, the kids—all of them are going to be fine. Even Minerva."

"_This_ time," Molly told him, shaking her head and looking away. "_This_ time, they're going to be fine."

Arthur was quiet for a moment. "You know, sometimes I look at you, and I think you'll end all of this single-handedly."

Molly blinked. "What?"

"Well, you remain to this day the only person I have _ever_ seen bring Fred and George to shame," he replied, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and strolling down the corridor. "What's stopping you from going and having a talk with You-Know-Who? I'm sure you could—"

"Don't _joke_ about that, Arthur," Molly insisted, shoving his side gently, though she wrapped her arm tightly around his waist. Arthur kissed the top of her head again, and she hugged him back.

* * *

How are we, darlings? :) You know how happy your reviews make me! Leave them, leave them, leave them, PLEASE! :)

xo


	15. Homework

15 February 1965 – Homework

"Miss Prewett, it's time for your potion."

Molly opened her eyes and looked up at Madam Pomfrey, the new Hogwarts matron, who was standing over her. She sat up, tugging her mother's homemade blanket around her shoulders, and nodded.

"Still no voice?" she asked sympathetically, and Molly shook her head. "Don't you worry, dear. It'll come back soon."

Molly swallowed the cup full of potion and coughed. Eyes watering, she nodded again. "Thank you," she whispered hoarsely, wiping her nose with her handkerchief. She looked down at her hands, which were still a pale shade of green. She had been in bed for almost three weeks with dragon pox. Not only had she missed all of her lessons in that time, but she had also been quarantined in the hospital wing, and not allowed to see any of her friends—even Gideon and Fabian. If not for the fact that her fever had broken earlier in the week and Madam Pomfrey had assured them that it was unnecessary, she was sure her parents would have taken her straight to St. Mungo's—_that_ would have been really unbearable.

But today was Saturday—and Molly always spent her Saturdays with her new boyfriend, Arthur Weasley, doing homework in the common room. And thanks to a conversation she had overheard (accidentally) between Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall (at her bedside, when they thought she was sleeping) Molly knew that Arthur had been stopping by every single day to ask if he could see her.

And, as sweet as that was…she didn't want to see him. She was still green, for Merlin's sake! If that didn't send Arthur running, she was a veela.

Molly bit her lip, scratching gently at one slightly darker green patch on her hand. If Arthur was waiting to come and see her, then what?

"Put some of this salve on that," said Madam Pomfrey, handing Molly a little tray with a pale purple lotion in it. It smelled like lavender. Molly smiled and rubbed it on her hands.

"My mother makes potions," Madam Pomfrey told her with a wink. She was busily rearranging her medicine chest. "But she's much better at it than I am. All I know how to do is make the medicine—and it almost always smells terrible. She knows all the little tricks for making it easier to take."

Molly smiled again. Her own mother worked in St. Mungo's children's ward, and was similarly talented; she suspected that Madam Pomfrey knew this.

Madam Pomfrey straightened up, having put away all of her medicines, and faced Molly, wiping her hands on her apron. "You've got a visitor," she said. "I'll give my permission for a visit if you feel well enough. It's Mr. Weasley."

Molly blinked, looking away for a moment. She scratched a tiny spot on the side of her nose, thinking. Then she looked at Madam Pomfrey and laid a hand on her chest, giving a cough and shaking her head slightly.

"All right, then," she replied—knowingly, to Molly's embarrassment. "Then I'd like you to lie down and sleep—"

"Molly? Molly? Are you behind the curtains?"

She jumped, looking wildly at Madam Pomfrey, who hurried out of the curtains that surrounded her bed. "Mr. Weasley! What on earth do you think you are doing?"

"Sorry Madam Pomfrey, I just—"

"Miss Prewett is still in my hospital wing!" Madam Pomfrey told him, and in her mind's eye, Molly could almost see Arthur's ears turning scarlet, as they always did when he was embarrassed. "I've told you for weeks to be patient!"

"Sorry, Madam Pomfrey," he mumbled.

Quietly, Molly slipped out of bed. She shivered, but crept to the opening in the curtains. Through a small gap, she could see Madam Pomfrey's back and Arthur, looking very ashamed.

"That's all right, Mr. Weasley," Madam Pomfrey was saying. "Come with me, now—" Molly stepped forward and gave a slight cough. Madam Pomfrey turned, looking rather surprised. "Miss Prewett?"

"Molly!"

Molly gave Madam Pomfrey a tentative sort of smile, shifting her weight from foot to foot—the ground was cold. She didn't look at Arthur; she was too nervous.

"Well—very well," the matron said at last, looking bemused. She placed her hands on Molly's shoulders and steered her back through the curtains. "Back in bed. You can have half an hour."

Madam Pomfrey got her settled, and Molly tugged her blanket close round her shoulders again. Finally, once Madam Pomfrey had gone, she met Arthur's eyes. His expression was impossible to read.

She smiled at him, and, looking startled, he smiled back. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

She nodded, still smiling nervously, and pointed to her throat.

"Oh," he said. "Your voice is gone? Okay—well—that's all right. I can talk for both of us."

Molly blinked.

"Yeah," Arthur said, "No problem. Er—_Arthur, what are you doing here_?" he demanded of himself in a high-pitched voice. "_I won't let you put yourself in mortal danger! Not for me!"_

Molly lifted her eyebrows as he made his voice deeper.

"But Molly," he said, "I would do anything for you—fight a dragon—or maybe just dragon pox." He looked at Molly, suddenly nervous, and smiled. "Besides, I've missed you—and you needed me to bring you your homework, anyway." Arthur bent over and picked up his school bag, resting it on the end of Molly's bed. "It's Saturday, you know, and we've got work to do. No more of this lying about nonsense!"

Molly laughed hoarsely.

"_Oh, Arthur, you're so thoughtful_," he replied to himself. _"I'm certainly glad I finally let _you_ take me to Hogsmeade instead of stupid Ricky Bobbitt._"

Molly blushed. Shyly, she reached out one hand and took Arthur's. His ears turned bright red, but he didn't pull his hand away. Then she caught sight of her own green-tinged fingers and withdrew them, tucking both of her hands under her comforter. Arthur noticed.

"Have I ever told you that I really like the color green?" he asked.

Molly stared at him, and he blushed an even deeper scarlet. She felt her own cheeks grow warm, but leaned forward and reached into Arthur's bag. She pulled out his Muggle Studies book and pointed to it. His favorite thing to talk about was always the latest topic that had been covered in his lessons.

Still pink-faced, he took his book. "Have you ever heard of a motorcycle, Molly?" he asked, riffling through to find the right page.

She shook her head, and Arthur grinned.


	16. Birthday

18 February 2030 – Birthday

"Victoire."

"The second of May."

"James."

"The fourth of December."

"Er…Teddy."

"The fourth of April."

"Hermione."

"The nineteenth of September. Really, Arthur—"

"Rose."

"The twenty-first of June. Arthur, this is pitiful."

"I'll stump you. Harry."

"Thirty-first of July—come on, I've been planning his birthday almost as long as any of the children!"

"Me."

Molly paused, putting on an expression of deep thought for a moment before she finally said, "I have no idea."

"Got you." Arthur beamed, making a face at her.

"Yes, you did, Mr. Weasley," she chuckled, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing his cheek. "Now turn out the lights. I'm exhausted." She took off her glasses and set them on the bedside table.

"I've heard that playing games like that—remembering dates and things—that they're good for your mind. Stops you going senile," Arthur said earnestly, flicking his wand and removing his spectacles.

"You'll never see me forget a birthday," Molly told him, cuddling close. "But it's a pity _you_ didn't know about all this ten years ago, you barmy old man."

Arthur laughed, kissing Molly's white hair and patting her back. "Well, it's you that has to look after me."

"I don't mind in the slightest," she told him, kissing his cheek and settling down to sleep.

Arthur sighed happily, and they were both quiet for quite a while. He looked down at Molly, whose lined face was peaceful as she fell asleep in his arms. "I have another one for you," he whispered.

The wrinkles that gently creased her forehead deepened for a moment. "Who?" she murmured, without opening her eyes.

"The fourth of November," he said, smiling.

Molly's eyes popped open. "Don't trick me."

"I'm not," he said. "Honestly."

Molly frowned. "Our only November birthday is Bill. No anniversaries. No grandchildren."

"Well, you're right about the last two," Arthur said. "It's not an anniversary, and it's not one of the grandkids, but Bill is not our only November birthday."

She frowned even more deeply. "Well, what—oh, my—_Arthur!_" He laughed as Molly sat up immediately, seizing her wand and flicking the lights on. "Arthur! Are you telling me the truth?"

"There's a baby coming," Arthur said, smiling mischievously. "I had a visitor while you were out today to tell me the good news—with instructions to make you guess who."

Molly looked utterly beside herself. "Don't you dare make me guess!"

"I was told that you must guess, and the responsible parties will present themselves to you tomorrow afternoon for tea and congratulations, only after you have done so," Arthur said solemnly, as Molly's smile continued to widen.

She gave a squeak of happiness and bit her lip for a moment. "Is it…a red-haired someone?"

"Yes," Arthur said.

"Oh—that's only five out," said Molly.

"Five? I'd say four," he said.

"Victoire, Louis, Roxanne, Fred, Dominique," she counted off. "Five."

"Dominique is a redhead in the right light," he told her.

"It's Dominique?" Molly cried.

"I didn't say that!"

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Arthur."

"Just play the game, Molly," he insisted.

She closed her eyes. "I'll guess….a female somebody?"

"That's not even a question," he snorted. "Of course there's a female involved!"

Molly smacked his shoulder. "You know what I mean. Is it a grand_daughter_?"

"There you go," he replied. "Yes. It is."

Molly clapped her hands over her mouth, giving an excited laugh. "So—it _could_ be Dominique—or Rosie…er….Molly's not married yet…Lucy's just had the baby….Lily…" she closed her eyes. "Dominique, Rose, or Lily."

"I like flowers," Arthur said absently, and Molly rolled her eyes.

"Do you?" she asked. "Fine, then. Rose…or Lily…" She looked at him. "All right. Another clue?"

"Well…what if I said…there's more than one baby coming?" he asked.

Molly blinked, looking momentarily stunned. "Pardon me?"

"Perhaps this one person…is having two babies," he said wryly.

"T-twins," Molly said. "Twins?"

Arthur nodded once. "Twins usually happen if, say, your _grandmother_ had twins for siblings…or, maybe if your _mother_ had twins for siblings…or if your _husband _is a twin…don't you think?"

Molly's eyes went wide. "Lily…Lily's having twins?" she said breathlessly, her hand moving almost on its own to cover her heart. "Our Lily is having twins?"

Arthur beamed. "I guess you'll find out at teatime tomorrow, won't you?" He turned away and reached into the drawer on his bedside table, rummaging around. He faced her again and placed a bronze Knut in her hand.

Molly burst into tears. "I can't believe it!" she cried. "Great-grandparents! Arthur—great-grandparents, we're—we're going to be great-grandparents again!" She sobbed and hugged him tightly, throwing her arms around his neck. Arthur laughed, feeling a few tears prick his own eyes, and hugged Molly back. She sniffled into his shoulder. "We've got a wonderful family, Arthur."

He pulled back and smiled at her. "They're something, aren't they?"


	17. Forbidden

5 July 1996 – Forbidden

"He's not marrying her," Molly said simply, storming into their bedroom with Arthur on her heels. "He's not. It's ridiculous."

"It's not ridiculous, Molly," Arthur told her reasonably. "Bill's in love, it's not up to us—"

"We're his parents, Arthur!"

"Are we _really_?" he asked; he regretted it at once.

"Don't you get snarky with me, Arthur Weasley," Molly snapped. "Bill is not marrying that—that French girl!"

"Can you make it sound more like a swearword?" Arthur asked, going to their bedroom door and closing it. "Look, it's been difficult enough for the two of them—"

"If you're talking about how difficult it is for her to be beautiful, you're sleeping on the sofa," Molly cut him off. She narrowed her eyes, watching him carefully.

Arthur lifted his eyebrows. "I meant it in the sense that there are people—their age and younger—who are dying," he explained. Molly scowled. "Every single day. I would think that there are quite a few people feeling the exact same pressure as Bill and—"

"And if all of those people insulted a hippogriff, would you want your son to do it, too?" she demanded.

"Molly," said Arthur, "That's not fair. You're not giving Bill any credit—"

"I'm giving him credit as a _very_ young man who doesn't know what he wants!" Molly retorted. "And there's nothing wrong with that at all! He's young, he has time, he doesn't need to be _marrying_ someone who's—what is she? Eight years younger than him? Nine?"

"Seven," Arthur corrected, "Not that that should matter in the slightest."

"I'm sure it matters to her parents," she muttered. She was pacing up and down at the foot of the bed, while he watched her from his place near the door.

"It's not like they're nineteen years old, without proper jobs," said Arthur carefully. "And it sounds like they're set on getting permission before—"

"Do _not_ make this about us!" Molly roared, whirling around. "This is not about us! This is about our son and the fact that he's about to make a massive mistake! He's—"

"He's over twenty-five years old, Molly," Arthur told her, raising his voice as well. "You can't control him forever—"

Molly froze. The color drained from her face.

Arthur sighed heavily. "I didn't mean that, Molly, I don't—you're not controlling—"

Without a word, Molly moved to the bed and picked up a pillow. Then she went to her armchair and got a quilt and presented them both to Arthur. He stared at her.

"Molly, please," he said, and she shook her head.

"We'll talk about it later," she told him quietly, and the hurt in her voice made his stomach turn.

"Mollywobbles—"

"_Don't_."

"I'm sorry," he said, trying to touch her arm; she pulled away and moved across the room.

"I know. Good night, Arthur."

He was silent for a long moment. Finally, he looked up. Molly had her back to him, sitting on his side of the bed. "Just—think about it, Molly. There's a reason they—they haven't done what we did. They don't want a forbidden marriage, and they know we'll listen to them."

Molly's back stiffened.

"Good night," said Arthur. "I love you."

He left, closing the door behind him, and went to sleep in Fred and George's bedroom.


	18. Clock

30 October 1977 – Clock

"I like this one," said Gideon, bouncing Percy on his knee. The infant babbled serenely, his little tuft of red hair swaying, sticking straight up out of his head, as he gazed back at Gideon. "He's very calm, isn't he?"

"He's an angel, until I change something in his routine," Molly said, chuckling. "Then I need to watch out. He likes his schedules, Percy." She tipped back and forth in her rocking chair, patting her large belly. "He does like you, though."

"Well, what's not to like?" Gideon asked seriously. He glanced sideways at Molly. "Feel all right?"

"Upset stomach," she said, her eyes closed.

"A baby will do that," he replied sagely. She smirked.

"Tea and birthday cake," Arthur said happily, as he came striding into the room, followed by Fabian, who had Bill hanging from his arm and Charlie on his leg. "Happy birthday, Molly!"

"Happy birthday, Mumma!" said Charlie eagerly, scurrying forward and hugging her tightly. Molly beamed and squeezed him back, just as hard—then she grabbed Bill and gave him a big, wet kiss.

"Eurgh! Mum!" he cried, and Molly laughed.

"I'm your Mummy, I get to do that kind of thing every day if I want to, and there's nothing you can do about it," she informed him.

Bill wiped his cheek with the back of his hand, pulling a face, but giggled.

"Come here, kid," said Fabian, seizing Charlie round the middle and swinging him into his lap. Charlie squealed delightedly as Bill scrambled over to join him. Arthur was cutting the birthday cake and Percy leaned forward in Gideon's lap, reaching for Molly.

"All right, all right," she said, "You come to Mummy." She took Percy up in her arms, and he snuggled against her belly, babbling happily at her. "Oh, thank you, darling," she said, taking the cake Arthur passed her. He kissed her warmly before setting her mug of tea on the table beside her. She beamed, resettling Percy on her lap.

"Muh, muh," he said, pointing to the cake. "Ah!"

Molly shook her head and broke off a piece for him. He stuffed it in his mouth, humming contentedly.

"Definitely a kid after my own heart," said Gideon. Charlie was with him now, hanging upside down from his lap.

"No playing favorites, Gid," said Fabian; Bill was arm-wrestling him as he tried to eat cake left-handed.

"Ahem," said Arthur. He had finished passing out the cake, and now raised his own tea mug. "I'd just like to propose a birthday toast to my wonderful wife, and my boys' wonderful mother. Happy birthday, darling. I love you."

Molly smiled at him as Gideon and Fabian echoed, "Happy birthday, Molly."

Bill and Charlie quickly righted themselves and ran over to join Percy, squeezing him and Molly into a many-armed hug. "Happy birthday, Mumma!" they chorused again.

"Thank you," she said happily, as they pulled themselves away. She rocked Percy back and forth on her lap—and one of the babies kicked, startling her. "Thank _you_," she said, and Bill and Charlie laughed.

"The baby can't hear you, Mum!" Bill said, giggling. Then he looked around at Fabian, frowning. "Can it?"

"I dunno, mate," he replied. "Do you remember what I said to you before you were born?"

"I do!" Charlie cried, and Molly rolled her eyes, sipping her tea.

"What did I say?"

"You said…erm…er…Hi, Charlie," he replied meekly, turning a brilliant shade of pink as Fabian and Gideon both burst into laughter.

"Fibber," said Bill.

"Am not!" Charlie retorted, flaring up at once.

"Boys," Arthur said, cutting across them both. He sat on the hearth near Molly, smirking. "Where's your present for your mum?"

"Time for presents!" Bill yelled. He and Charlie charged upstairs to their shared bedroom, slamming the door behind them.

There were a few beats of silence, and then, very suddenly, Percy gave a shriek of mad laughter, clapping his hands eagerly in Molly's lap.

"Sorry we brought the Halloween treats, Molly," said Fabian with a chuckle.

"Guess that was a bad idea," Gideon agreed.

"That's all right," Molly replied, passing Percy to Arthur and settling back in her chair, her hands on her stomach. "You can put them to bed. It's my night off."

Arthur chuckled. "Can it be my night off, as well?"

"I think you're going to like our gift, Moll," Gideon told her. He got up and went over to the corner, where a large package had been sitting all evening long. "It's useful."

"Is it another _Witch Weekly _annual recipe book?" she answered as he brought it to her.

"I am shocked and appalled that you would even _think_ our gift-giving skills so mundane," Fabian gasped, laying a hand on his chest.

"Ten years of Christmases and birthdays aren't reason enough?" Molly laughed. "I think you've gotten me one every year since you left Hogwarts."

"As if you don't keep them all on a shelf and think fondly of us when you see them," Gideon replied, placing the package in her hand.

"Do I have to separate you three as well?" Arthur asked sternly from where he now sat on the carpet with Percy, who was sucking on the head of his stuffed bear.

"Well, it _is_ bigger than a recipe book," Molly said, admiring the Christmas paper that they had wrapped the gift in. "Let's see." She ripped it open and lifted the lid of the box—then gasped. "What on earth—?"

"That," said Gideon, "we found in Hogsmeade. In Gladrags, of all places. They were selling it secondhand—so we made some modifications of our own, and there you have it."

"Gideon," she breathed. "Fabian…" She lifted out of the box a large clock, which, instead of numbers, had a wide array of phrases written on it—_Home—Work—School—Travelling—Garden—_

"We added a few of our own," Fabian pointed out.

"'_Mortal Peril'?"_ Molly read, laughing.

"For when Bill has Charlie dangling out of a tree in the orchard, that sort of thing," said Gideon.

"Wow," said Arthur, who had come over to see, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Will you look at that—what a great bit of magic…"

Gideon turned to Fabian. "I think that's the first time I've ever heard Arthur get excited about something other than a Muggle object in ten years."

"And the hands…oh, Arthur, look," sighed Molly, running her fingers over the names—Bill, Charlie, Percy, Molly, and Arthur—that were carved into the hands of the clock, all five of which pointed to _Home_. "It's beautiful, you two—thank you so much. Where are your hands?"

"Are you kidding? We're not letting our older sister spy on us!" Fabian cried. Molly laughed.

"I guess I'll just have to talk to Dorcas Meadowes, won't I?" she asked Gideon innocently. He blushed bright red beneath his orange hair as Fabian roared with laughter.

"Here," Gideon said, leaning forward and taking something out of the box, talking over Fabian's helpless giggles and very clearly trying to hide his blush. He held out a wooden stick to Molly—it was another hand for the clock, a bit shorter than Percy's. "This is the best part. When the new one gets here," said Gideon, pointing to Molly's belly, "You can add him—or her, I guess—right on. Pretty simple spell. I'll show you when you've got a name."

"Thank you, Giddy," said Molly gently, kissing his cheek. She looked over at Fabian, beaming. "This is the most wonderful gift you two have ever given me—really. It's never going to leave my sight."

They both smiled.

"Mum! Mum!"

"We found it! We almost lost it, but—but—but then—we didn't!"

"Oh, thank Merlin," said Molly, smiling and setting the clock safely on the hearth as Bill and Charlie came barreling down the stairs again. Percy, who was on the carpet by Arthur's feet, gave a squeal of happiness at their reappearance—Molly had lately observed that he was in a state of perpetual excitement whenever people entered or left a room.

"Dad helped us get it," Charlie explained, passing the wrapped gift to Bill.

"But it was mostly our money that went into it," Bill continued. "We saved and saved, and Dad only had to give a couple of Knuts to help buy it!"

"Oh, boys," Molly said, taking the present and making brief eye contact with Arthur, who was smiling in a way that made her suspect it was more than a few Knuts—but of course, he would let it be a gift from Bill and Charlie. "Thank you so much! What is it?"

"Open it," said Bill, scrambling onto the back of Fabian's chair to annoy him.

"Yeah, open it!" Charlie cried. He knelt down beside Molly's knee, watching her eagerly.

"All right," she said, pulling the paper off the rectangular box. She lifted the lid away to reveal a long, beautiful necklace made of multicolored glass beads. "Darling," she said, drawing it out and placing it immediately around her neck, "It's lovely! Oh, thank you, Charlie—thank you, Billy!"

"You're welcome," said Charlie, blushing again and hurrying over to Arthur and Percy, who were examining the clock with great interest. Bill merely gave her a thumbs-up—Gideon and Fabian were dangling him upside-down.

Molly shook her head. "Let him down before he passes out," she told them.

"Aw," Bill groaned regretfully as he was lowered onto the carpet. "I want to pass out!"

Molly chuckled and opened her arms; Charlie and Bill joined her at once. "Now it's _my_ turn," she said. "I have a present for you two—and for Percy, and for Uncle Gideon and Uncle Fabian—and especially for Daddy." She caught Arthur's eye—he was helping little Percy stand up, leaning against the coffee table—and smiled.

"You're not supposed to give _us_ presents, Mum," Charlie piped up honestly. Bill looked at him as though he had gone mad.

"She can if she wants to!"

Molly smiled. "Well, it's a present that all of us are going to share, all right?"

"Okay," said Charlie brightly, though Bill looked suddenly suspicious. Arthur frowned bemusedly at Molly, and Gideon and Fabian were looking at each other warily.

"Well," Molly said, looking first to her brothers, then to Arthur and Percy, and then at Bill and Charlie, whom she held in each arm, "I had some interesting talks with the Healers, not that long ago, and…I decided that it would be a really special gift for all of my favorite boys to hear together…so I wanted to make it a birthday surprise." She was saying this for Arthur's benefit, though she had a feeling he would not begrudge her a few weeks' secret. "It's news about our baby here." She patted her belly.

"Is it a boy?" Charlie asked excitedly.

"I don't know that part, yet," said Molly, smiling at him. She took a breath. "We'll have to find out when they get here."

"So what's the news?" Bill asked, frowning, just as Arthur, Gideon, and Fabian cried, in unison—

"_They?"_

"Wait," said Bill, looking around at them, "There's—not one baby?"

Molly beamed. "No, not one. There are two." She felt tears rise in her eyes as she met Arthur's stunned gaze. "Twins. Just like your uncles."

There was a long period of silence as Gideon and Fabian stared at her, their jaws hanging slack. Arthur, too, looked more than a little bit stunned. Then—

"Wow! I didn't know you could do that, Mum!" Charlie cried, utterly shocked. "That's so cool! Good job!" Gideon and Fabian jumped to their feet, laughing hysterically. Gideon swung Charlie up jubilantly, and Molly rose to hug Fabian tightly.

"I knew it!" he told her, without releasing her. "I knew you'd have a couple of us!"

"If you ever tell them to give me a _Witch Weekly_ recipe book, I'll hex you," Molly laughed, wiping away the tears that were streaming down her cheeks. Over his shoulder, she could see that Bill had picked up Percy and was celebrating ecstatically with him and Charlie. She pulled back from Fabian at last and turned. She gave Arthur a watery smile. "I hope you're not upset that I didn't tell you."

"Oh, Molly…don't be ridiculous," he replied, his voice breaking as he embraced her. She pulled away for a moment, reaching into her pocket, and produced a single bronze Knut, holding it between their faces. He stared at it for a moment before he gave a little sob, and Molly laughed gently, squeezing him tightly in her arms.

* * *

D'aww.


	19. Dreaming

1 December 2000 – Dreaming

Arthur had noticed, after thirty or so years of marriage, that he could always tell exactly what Molly was thinking and feeling just by what her hands were doing. If her fingers were tightly interlocked, it usually meant that he or one of the children had done something that had gotten her so angry, she was restraining herself from throttling them on the spot. If she was drumming or tapping her fingers against something—her arm, a table, or anything nearby—it meant that she was hearing something that displeased her. But, if one of her hands was absently stroking the other, she was calm and happy. If her fingers twisted around a strand of hair, she was focused, but pleased with the way her task was going.

Arthur had seen Molly's hands cook, clean, and garden. In thirty-odd years, they had held beautiful babies, and squeezed the life out of his own, and wiped tears away. They had dueled, and protected, and been wrung in misery. In the last twelve days, Arthur had paid a lot of attention to Molly's hands, because they—like Molly—had not been their usual, lively selves. About two weeks ago, Molly had begun feeling ill, and it had turned out to be a relapse of dragon pox. At first, it had appeared that things were normal, but after just a few days on the potions the Healers had given her, she had developed a high fever, which led to her immediate hospitalization.

After a long period of ups and downs, when Molly would seem as though she were improving, and then take a sudden turn for the worse, she was finally getting better. Right now, Arthur held one of her hands, sitting at her bedside as the Healer examined her. She was smiling vaguely, only semi-conscious (thanks to the many pain and sleeping potions she'd been given) as she lay against a pile of pillows in St. Mungo's critical care ward.

"We'll be back to move you out of this ward in just a little while, Mrs. Weasley," promised Healer Buford. He looked at Arthur. "She's quite all right to have visitors once she's upstairs."

"Fantastic, thank you," Arthur said, rising and shaking his hand. The Healer nodded and left, and Arthur sat down, taking Molly's hand again. She turned and gazed at him calmly. "And how are you?" he asked, grinning at her.

"I…am _wonderful_," said Molly serenely. She looked to the end of her bed, where a lovely bouquet of yellow and pink flowers sat with a small, plush toy kitten. "Where did all of _that_ come from?"

"Bill, Fleur, and Victoire," said Arthur. "Fleur says Victoire misses her granny very much."

"Granny. That's me," Molly giggled, and Arthur had to bite his lip to stop from laughing.

"You're very silly right now," he informed her, and she nodded. "I think you've enjoyed those sleeping potions."

"Mhmm," she mumbled. "I feel much better."

"Well, your fever's broken," said Arthur, smoothing her hair back. "That's got to feel nice." Molly nodded sleepily again. "You gave us all a turn, though."

Molly opened her eyes, looking very sad. "I'm sorry, Arthur. I didn't mean to."

He couldn't help but smile. "It's not your fault in the slightest," he said softly, leaning forward to kiss her temple. "Everyone was just happy to hear that you're all right. I've gotten owls from just about all of them. Ginny begged me this morning to bring her along with me, she can't wait to see you."

"Mm, not till I'm moved," Molly said firmly, raising her finger just as Healer Buford had done. She beamed suddenly, as though a wonderful thought had just occurred to her. "Will she bring Ronnie? And…Har…Hair-mione…?"

Arthur snorted. "I'm sure she can bring Ron, Harry, _and_ Hermione, dear."

"That's it," Molly sang, sighing softly. She looked at the flowers at the end of her bed again and frowned. "Where did those come from?" Arthur stifled his laughter with a cough, and she furrowed her brow. "I asked that, didn't I? I'm sorry…I'm all wrong today…"

Arthur lifted her hand and kissed it gently. "You're wonderful, as usual." He laughed. "Do you remember what you were like after Ginny was born? You didn't believe you had a girl for an hour and a half."

She chuckled. "I thought you'd lost our baby in the nursery."

"Well, you still don't know that," Arthur reasoned.

Molly shook her head. "She's our girl, all right. Looks like you."

"Nonsense, she's gorgeous," he said, and Molly chuckled dryly. "And she's got your temper."

"I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about," Molly said in an injured voice, though she winked, and Arthur smiled at her.

"You're going to wear yourself out. You need sleep," he reminded her gently.

"I like talking about our children," Molly answered. "How many are there again?"

"Now you're just joking around," said Arthur, and she grinned. "Percy and George will be by as soon as they're done with work this evening, and Charlie comes home on Friday, all the way through till the New Year. Happy?"

"Extremely," Molly beamed. Then she sighed and closed her eyes, rubbing her neck with her free hand.

"Still sore?" Arthur asked. One symptom of dragon pox in adults, he had learned, was persistent stiffness and aches.

"I am N.E.W.T.-standard, thank you, sir," Molly answered smartly, and Arthur laughed, taking her hand again.

"I mean it, Molly, you should rest. Don't you want to see that wonderful family of ours?"

Molly sighed, smiling. "I just had to be sure all heads were counted. Like when we used to take them on outings, and we had to count." She moved one hand to drum her fingers lightly over her heart; Arthur had not often seen this gesture, but he had a pretty good idea of what it meant. She closed her eyes again, apparently starting to doze off. He sighed and gently stroked her arm, producing from his pocket a copy of the _Daily Prophet _and unfolding it on his knee.

After a couple of minutes, however, Molly spoke again. "I forgot one, Arthur."

His heart tightened. "What, dear?" he asked, though he was certain he knew the answer. "Freddie?"

"He came to see me, too, though, so no need to worry." Molly laced their fingers together, not opening her eyes. "I dreamed about him coming to visit me…last night? Well, sometime." She finally looked up and met his gaze evenly; she did not look as though she were going to cry.

Arthur smiled tightly. "What did you dream, Mollywobbles?"

"It was just a moment…but it was like he was there," she said softly, reaching her free hand to touch the blankets at her hip. "He was looking after me."

Arthur swallowed hard. "You know, I think he was." He gently put a hand to Molly's cheek. She was starting to fall asleep again, and he was not entirely convinced that she knew what she was saying. "Give me your other hand, Molly." She frowned confusedly, but turned slightly onto her side, and offered him her other hand. He pressed her palms together between his, and she smiled. It was the start of a silly clapping game that they had invented one sweltering afternoon at Hogwarts, when they were meant to be studying for their O.W.L.s.

"I can still beat you at this, dragon pox and all," Molly told him stoutly, though she seemed to be unable to keep her eyes open any longer.

Arthur bent and kissed her thumbs, held securely in his own hands. "I'll take you up on that for a New Year's Eve match. Deal?"

Molly gave a soft snore; she was already soundly sleeping.


	20. Help

How's it going, guys? Are we liking the one-shots? Reviews? :) xoxo I LOVE YOU!

* * *

7 August 1981 – Help

Molly lay in bed, half-awake, but drowsing in and out of consciousness. She hardly ever slept properly nowadays; she was nine months pregnant with their seventh son and on strict bed rest. There were some serious concerns about the baby's health that could become very real problems if she disobeyed any Healer's orders. Unfortunately, Molly's patience was wearing thin in what she hoped was the final week of her pregnancy. It was difficult for her to be stuck in bed all day long, not least because she felt cut off from spending any time with the boys. She also couldn't do any housework at all, or look after the little ones (except Ronnie, when Arthur would bring him in to sit on the bed), or even get up by herself, so sneaking out of bed to the garden was a no-go.

Worse than anything else, she was alone with her thoughts almost all of the time—thoughts of Gideon and Fabian and Dorcas; thoughts of the baby, whose life she could possibly be endangering if she wasn't extremely careful; and thoughts of (yet again) her regret in hoping so badly for a girl that she actually felt _disappointed_ because it was a boy.

And Arthur was in an absolute dither, worrying about every flutter of movement that Molly reacted to, every back pain, every headache. But Molly genuinely hated being helpless, and that was the way she felt, these days—so often, her temper would run a bit short when he was hovering.

She opened her eyes and glanced at the clock on her bedside table. It was four in the morning. Not for the first time, she wished that the baby would time his waking hours to hers—he was soundly asleep now, but the moment she actually did nod off to sleep, he would be up and active. She took a deep breath, allowing herself to relax again. "Come on," she whispered to herself. "Sleep."

"Mumma," said a little voice, directly in her ear. "Mumma."

Molly opened her eyes. Three-year-old Fred stood right beside the bed, his enormous brown eyes wide with worry. It was dark, still the middle of the night. "Freddie?" she asked sleepily. "Darling, what's wrong?"

"Judge sick," he replied, tugging on her wrist. "Judge!"

Molly didn't sit up right away. "Sweetheart, Mummy can't come," she said. "Mummy has to stay in bed. Is he really sick?"

Fred nodded frantically, and Molly sighed. In the last six months, Fred had been going through a phase of extreme overprotectiveness of his twin brother. Every few nights, Molly and Arthur would be woken and informed that 'Judge' was sick and needed them. Naturally, once they did go and check on him, he would be soundly sleeping and perfectly well. Fred would only be put to bed again if Molly swore that George was completely fine. At first, it had been sweet to see Fred always anxiously looking after George, even if it was a little misguided.

After the third night in a row of being woken, however, Molly was ready to put this phase to an end. "Darling, why don't you come sleep here with Mum and Dad?" she suggested drowsily, moving to try and pull back the covers.

"No!" Fred insisted. "Judge sick!"

Molly sighed. Awkwardly and uncomfortably, she pulled herself up to lean her back against the headboard and reached out for Arthur's shoulder. "Arthur. _Arthur_. Oh, for goodness' sake, you'd sleep through a train crashing through the house—_Arthur._"

With a snort, he jerked awake. "Whasswrong? Baby coming?" He sat up, trying blearily to focus on Molly's face. "Stay calm," he ordered.

"Arthur," she interrupted him. "I'm fine. Fred's here."

Arthur frowned, but said nothing; Molly was grateful. Fred could be very sensitive when he thought that no one was listening to him. Arthur got out of bed and pulled on his robe and slippers.

"All right, son," he mumbled, taking Fred's hand. "Let's go see your brother."

Molly smiled. She leaned back and sighed, rubbing her belly. The baby kicked suddenly. "Oh, not you, too," she begged. "Go back to sleep, please, please, please…" He kicked out again. "Oh, for—are you sure there aren't two of you in there, as well?" she asked irritably. She closed her eyes and rubbed her middle again, starting to drowse…

"Molly."

She started awake; the lights were on in their bedroom, and Arthur was dressing in a haphazard sort of way. "What's—what's going on?" she muttered, waking up slowly.

"George _is_ ill," he said. "He's got a high fever, he's been sick four times, and he's got a rash. I'm taking him to St. Mungo's."

"You don't think it's dragon pox?" she asked. She met his eyes and saw the answer; he was never an alarmist, but that was precisely what he thought—and if it was so bad that Arthur wanted to take him to a Healer, she knew it was serious. "I want to go with you—"

"No," he said flatly. "You need to stay here and stay in bed—Bill's going to help look after everyone if I'm not back in the morning—"

"Arthur!" Molly cried, feeling herself welling up with tears; never before had she been unable to look after one of her children when they were sick, and if George had dragon pox, she most certainly wanted to be with him.

He came and sat down on the edge of the mattress, taking her hands. "He's going to be fine, but I think he needs to see a Healer. Bill's promised to come and help you—but I want you to swear to me you won't get out of bed."

"I'm _fine_," she insisted.

"It's not just you I'm thinking of," he replied. As though something had just occurred to him, he got up and hurried to his bedside table and rummaged around in the drawer. He pulled out a single bronze Knut and brought it back around the bed, laying a hand on her belly. "Right now, two of the kids are sick. Understand me?"

Molly blinked back tears as he placed the Knut in her hand. "All right," she said. "I promise."

"Daddy?" Fred's tearful face appeared in the doorway. "Judge sick," he said plaintively.

"I know, son, I know," Arthur said. He turned and kissed Molly. "We'll be back before you know it. I'm sure they'll be able to get him sorted out quickly."

"Take care of him," she told him. He smiled. "All right," Molly said. "Come over here, Freddie—we're going to have a sleepover, you and me."

Fred's lower lip trembled as he padded over to the bed. Arthur scooped him up and tucked him in right beside Molly. "Wanna go _wit_ Judge," he insisted, as Arthur got up and made to leave. Fred had never slept a night without his brother.

"Freddie," Molly said gently, "Mummy's feeling sick, too—will you stay with me? Will you make me feel better?"

He looked very upset for a moment. "Judge…" he murmured, looking at Arthur, who was still standing with his hand on the doorknob.

Molly gave a little cough, and Fred looked around at her. Then he stared straight at Arthur, scrunching his face up in a frown. "Stay wit Judge, Daddy," he said fiercely, raising a finger and pointing at him. "I stay wit Mumma."

Molly almost wanted to laugh. She pulled Fred into her arms and kissed him, looking over the top of his head at Arthur. "Go," she mouthed, and he quietly slipped out, shutting the door behind him. Fred sat back on his heels, looking very, very upset.

"Judge sick," he said miserably.

Molly nodded. "I know. But you did a good thing, telling Daddy and me. You're a good brother, Freddie."

He rubbed his hand under his nose, sniffling. "Yuh?"

"Yes," she replied firmly. She rubbed the Knut in her hand—for good luck.

Fred sniffled again. "How _you_ feel, Mumma?" he asked.

"I feel a lot better because you're here," Molly told him. He sighed and curled up against her belly.

"Thanks fo' heppin' Judge," he said.

Molly beamed. "I'm your Mummy. I'll always be here to help you."

Fred looked thoughtful for a moment. "Okay. Me too."


	21. Surprise

13 May 1967 – Surprise

"Nice look, Weasley!"

"Love the glasses!"

Arthur kept his head down, focusing on his book, but Molly whipped around and glared at the passing gang of Slytherins. In addition to a large group from their own year, led by Wallace Jugson and Walden Macnair, she saw several younger students, including Bellatrix Black and Lucius Malfoy. Macnair and Jugson were leading the taunts.

"Snakes," she muttered under her breath.

"Just ignore them, Molly," Arthur replied, though he looked terribly embarrassed. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose without looking up from his book. "They'll go away."

Molly scowled and rested her chin on her knees, continuing to pluck up dandelions to braid together. She and Arthur sat under the massive tree that overlooked the lake. Most students, it seemed, were outside today—it was the first really nice day they'd had in months. She kept one eye on the Slytherins, who settled themselves on the bank of the lake, not too far away.

"Emmeline heard a rumor about Jugson," she said to Arthur. He looked up.

"What?"

"Apparently he and Macnair were saying something about…leaving school early to…" Molly looked around, "support _him_."

Arthur looked disturbed. "That's a really serious rumor, Molly," he said.

"Well, it's not like I'm spreading it around. It gives me the creeps!" she told him. "You're the only one I've told."

Arthur frowned. "Well, I might not like them, but I hope it isn't true for their own sakes. That's nothing that anyone our age should be getting mixed up in."

"Hm," Molly murmured, watching as Bellatrix shot little jets of white light at some unfortunate insect she had found, to the guffaws of the other Slytherins. "_She_ gives me the creeps, too."

Arthur closed his book and got on his knees, moving a bit closer to Molly. "Does she give you the…collywobbles?"

Molly whirled around and smacked his arm. "Don't you dare, Arthur Weasley—"

"The collywobbles, for Mollywobbles?" he teased, tickling her sides, and she collapsed at once, shrieking with laughter.

"Arthur! Arthur, get off, you raving lunatic—"

"Eurgh!" shrieked a far-away voice.

Arthur froze, and Molly, who lay in the grass, closed her eyes. "Damn it," she breathed. She sat up beside Arthur as Jugson, Macnair, and Bellatrix approached, looking delightedly malevolent.

"Blood traitors messing around?" Bellatrix sneered. "I forgot, you two must like filth…"

Arthur had to seize Molly's arm to stop her from rising. "Get out of here, you three. We're not bothering you."

"Wrong, Weasley," growled Macnair. "You're a stinking blood traitor—both of you. What's the matter, Prewett, couldn't find any lower scum to get with? Couldn't find any Mudbloods?"

"Hey!" Arthur barked, jumping to his feet. His neck and ears were scarlet. "Clear off, Macnair. Don't make me do something you'll regret."

Jugson scoffed. "Will you look at Weasley?" he teased, giving Arthur's shoulders a shove. "What a little hero…"

"Back off, you creep," Molly said, rising as well.

Bellatrix gave a shriek of laughter. "Oh, look, the cow wants to help, too," she sneered.

Molly rounded on her, reaching for her wand, but Arthur seized her arm. "Come on, Molly. We're leaving." The Slytherins burst into raucous laughter as he snatched up his book and led Molly by the hand away from the lake.

"I hate them," she muttered. "I hate them, I hate them…"

"I know," Arthur said. He was still very red. "But we can just ignore them, there's no point in getting in trouble—"

"Thanks for the flowers, Prewett!" yelled Bellatrix. Molly looked around; she was tearing up the dandelion chain that Molly had made.

"See you later, Four-Eyes!" shouted Macnair.

And then, before Molly was even really aware of what she was doing, she had wrenched her hand out of Arthur's and gone tearing back to the lake. She took one flying leap and—

"A week's detention?" Arthur asked as he and Molly walked out of the hospital wing. She was holding her cut-up and broken, bandaged hand gingerly; it was still a little sore after being mended.

"McGonagall told me I should be glad it wasn't more," she replied glumly. She sighed. "That was a stupid thing to do. I have homework tonight. How am I supposed to write?"

Arthur snorted. "_That's_ why it was a stupid thing to do?"

Molly gave him an inquisitive look. "Why else?"

"I don't know that I ever expected to see Walden Macnair cry," Arthur said thoughtfully, as they walked down the staircase to the Great Hall for dinner.

"Miss Prewett," said a serious voice. Professor McGonagall was surveying her austerely. Molly gave her an apologetic look and hurried inside the Great Hall with Arthur.


	22. Duel

So if you squint, this is connected to yesterday's oneshot... :)

* * *

2 May 1998 – Duel

"Ouch."

"Hush, Arthur," Molly chided gently as she cleaned the shallow wound on his shoulder. "You'll be just fine in a moment." She put down the antiseptic potion, raised her wand, and pointed it at the gash, which began to knit itself immediately.

They were in an empty boys' dormitory in Gryffindor Tower, and it was midmorning. Arthur had asked Molly to tend to his wounds out of sight of their children.

He winced as she helped him pull his robes back on over the scars he still bore from his snakebite. "Thanks."

She nodded briefly and began putting the medical supplies back in the bag she had brought upstairs with her. "Poppy will want some help in the Great Hall. The wizards from St. Mungo's will be back soon to transport the injured. Why don't you rest here for a bit?"

"I didn't know you could duel like that."

Molly turned at the door. "What?"

"I didn't know you could duel the way you did," Arthur said. "I've never…I've never seen anything like it."

Molly closed her eyes for a moment; she had wanted so badly to avoid this conversation. "I had to, Arthur. You know I did, or…I never would have done that to another living soul…" Her eyes filled with tears, and she hastily wiped away one that fell down her cheek.

Arthur came close, laying his hands on her arms. "It's going to be all right, Molly," he whispered.

She sniffled, looking down at her feet. "He would be laughing, right now," she said. "Making some joke."

"Probably about how he and George got away with a lot more than they should have, when you could do that the whole time," Arthur murmured.

Molly squeezed her eyes shut, drawing a slow breath. Her throat burned painfully as she said, "There's—there's work to do. I should go downstairs…see what—Poppy—needs—" her voice broke at last, and she clapped a hand over her mouth, sinking onto the bed nearest her. And in an instant, Arthur had wrapped her in his arms, and she began to wail into his shoulder. "Arthur…our boy, our Freddie…my baby boy…"

Arthur squeezed her tight, and it was suffocating, but Molly clung to him…she needed to know he was there, was real, because nothing else in the world could ever be real again, not if Fred had been taken away from her…

She was dimly aware that Arthur was crying with her. It was too much, everything was overwhelming, and part of her just didn't want to keep on living when her son could not.

"I wish it was me," she moaned. "I wish it was me, Arthur…I'd give anything to have him back."

"Molly," he whispered. "Don't—don't do that—please…"

"My baby…"

Arthur held her still tighter, and she squeezed back just as hard, crying as she had not done…ever, it seemed. It could have been years before she finally stopped; not because she felt better, but because she had no more tears left. She pulled back, withdrawing a handkerchief from her pocket and wiping her cheeks.

Arthur's eyes were red, and he had tearstains tracking down his dirty face as well. Molly wiped them away, giving his cheeks gentle kisses as she did.

"How do you feel?" he asked, taking her hand and rubbing it gently.

She closed her eyes and drew a breath, leaning her head on his shoulder. "Wrong."

Arthur nodded. "Me too, Molly." He shut his eyes and silently pulled her into his arms, folding her close, and Molly pressed against him.


	23. Sorrow

28 July 1997 – Sorrow

Arthur startled awake from the midst of a very vivid and unpleasant dream, undoubtedly born of the night's horrors, and looked around. Molly was not in the bed, nor was she in the room. He sighed. He knew where she had gone, and so slipped out of bed and pulled on his robe, tying it as he went down the spiral stairs.

"It's all right, darling…shh, shh…come on, now…"

Arthur stopped. He had fully expected Molly to be in the sitting room, watching over George, who had felt too ill to try and get upstairs to his bed. In fact, George was still soundly sleeping on the sofa beneath a pile of blankets, but there were lights and sounds coming from the kitchen. Arthur tiptoed toward the door and heard a hearty sniff.

"Sorry," muttered a stuffed-up voice. "Sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry about, Freddie," said Molly gently.

"Well—you all—I mean, you're all okay—and so is he—but it's just—" Fred's voice broke, and Arthur heard the scrape of a chair; Molly had obviously moved closer to him.

"Darling, of course he is," she told him. "That doesn't mean we're not sad, and very, very upset." She was quiet for a moment. "Oh, sweetheart—what can I say?"

"Nothing," Fred said quickly, and Arthur recognized the tone; he was trying to evade discussing this breakdown. "There's nothing—he's all right, I'm all right—and—except for Mad-Eye—we're all okay. That's the end of it."

Molly sighed, and Arthur knew she felt Mad-Eye's loss as sharply as he did. "That's not the end of it, darling, I think we both know that."

There was a long moment of silence. When Fred spoke again, it was in a carefully controlled tone. "I think—I just had—a scare, Mum. I shouldn't have—I shouldn't have gotten so upset. I'm okay."

"Fred."

Arthur froze. Molly never used that voice, unless—

"Don't lie to me. I am your mother, I know when you do it."

In any other situation, Fred would have taken this as a challenge, a chance to push Molly's buttons just a little bit more…but Arthur's eyes lingered on George's sleeping from. The small, clean, dark hole that was once his ear was visible, and it made Arthur's stomach churn to see it. Snape's curse could have flown just a little more to the left, and…

In the kitchen, Fred was crying again.

"All right, sweetheart…it's all right…shh, shh-hh-hh…"

Arthur blinked; his eyes stung with tears and watered. He chanced a peek around the wall, looking into the kitchen doorway. Molly was staring back at him as she held a sobbing Fred in her arms, her own eyes full of tears; she had known he was there, of course she had known. She always knew, because she was—Molly.

He made a very weak attempt at a smile. She simply blinked once, slowly, breaking eye contact with him, and kissed the top of Fred's head again. She whispered, "Shh, sweetheart, shh…"

Fred hugged her more tightly, and she rubbed his back softly. At last, he seemed to quiet.

He sat up, sniffling, and Arthur stepped out of sight again, wiping at his eyes with the sleeve of his pajamas. Then he heard something that, for any number of strange reasons, made his heart swell with—of all things, on a night like tonight—pride.

"Don't tell George, okay?"


	24. Dark

And now for something a little bit lighter!

* * *

31 August 1982 – Dark

"Mum? Is that you?"

"Billy?"

"Why are the lights out?"

"Shh, sweetheart—Ginevra is with me."

"Oh—sorry."

"Don't worry. Come sit on the couch. Are you all right?"

"…Yeah."

"Come sit with me." Molly sat up slightly on the sofa, making room for Bill while trying not to disturb the sleeping infant she held against her chest. She could just see his outline in the dim light that the cloudy gray pre-dawn skies provided through the curtained window.

"Is Ginevra all right?" he asked quietly as he sat down.

"She's fine," Molly whispered. "She had a bit of a cough, but she's sleeping now."

"Okay," Bill replied. "I heard you moving around down here—I just wanted to be sure you were okay. I—I think I'll go back to bed."

"Wait a minute," Molly said, catching his arm and sitting him back down. "What were you doing awake at this hour?"

It was hard to tell if Bill was avoiding her gaze or not. "Couldn't sleep," he mumbled.

"Did Charlie's snoring wake you?"

Bill stifled his laughter with his hands. "No."

Molly reached out and smoothed his hair slightly; he did not pull away, as he usually did—eleven-year-olds, she was told repeatedly, didn't have their mums neaten their hair. "Did you have a bad dream?"

"No," he said, a little too quickly. "Well—not really."

"Not really?" she repeated. Bill was silent for a long time, but he leaned against Molly's side. She was exhausted, and so closed her eyes for a moment. She timed her breathing with Billy and Ginevra's…one, two, three—release—one, two, three—release—

"Do I help you, Mum?"

Molly frowned. "Help me?"

"Do I do my chores and everything?"

"As far as I know," she whispered. "You're very helpful."

"Because I really do try and get them all done," he whispered back. "I mean, I know I sometimes forget—but I do try."

Molly looked down at him. "I know you do, sweetheart. You have a lot of chores to remember."

"Well—yeah," he said. "That's—that's sort of what I was thinking about."

"What were you thinking about?"

"Well—Charlie and Percy—they have their own chores to worry about," Bill said, sitting up and facing her. "But Fred and George—they're kind of little. They don't really know how to do any chores. And—and Ron and Ginevra—they can't do any chores at all, they're just babies."

"All right," Molly said, now slightly curious and amused. "I'm following you."

"Well, I was thinking—if I go to Hogwarts, and Dad's working a lot—and you've still got to look after Ron and Ginevra and George and Fred," Bill said, "How are Percy and Charlie gonna do the chores?"

"Oh," Molly said. "That's a good point."

"I mean, I don't want _you_ or Dad to do my chores, because you're both busy enough. And besides, I have to clean the chicken coop and de-gnome the garden," he continued. "And that stuff—Charlie and Percy are kind of young for it, don't you think?"

"Maybe so." Molly had a very shrewd idea as to where this conversation was headed.

"Well, what I'm saying is—maybe—maybe—" Bill broke off; he seemed to have lost his nerve.

"Maybe you should stay here, and help look after the house, instead of going to Hogwarts?" Molly asked.

"Well…sort of." He touched Molly's arm. "But, Mum, I don't want you to think—that—well, I don't like all my books and robes and my wand and stuff! I can't believe you and Dad saved up all that money just for me to go to school! But—well, I—I want to be helpful to you! I don't want to go away, and leave you without anybody to—to do chores!"

"Shh," Molly said, for Ginevra had just stirred fitfully.

"Sorry," Bill whispered. "But—I really don't want you to have to do my jobs," he said. "That wouldn't be fair at all."

Molly felt as though she could have cried; she was lucky he couldn't see her smile. "Well," she said, matter-of-factly, "I guess that settles it."

"What?" Bill sounded shocked.

"Yes," Molly continued. "I'd say that settles it. Why don't I just teach you all the spells you need to know here, at the Burrow, and you won't go to Hogwarts?"

"Er…"

"Charlie will have to find his own way…or, if Charlie wants to do what you did, then Percy will…or maybe the twins…or Ronnie…or, who knows, maybe only Ginevra will go to Hogwarts and be in Gryffindor, like me and Dad," Molly said, shrugging slightly. "She wouldn't have any of her big brothers to tell her about it, though. She'd have to go to the castle all on her own and learn everything for herself." At exactly that moment, Ginevra gave a little sigh in her sleep. Molly would have to remember to thank her for it one day.

"Erm…right," said Bill, and she was pleased to hear a note of confusion in his voice.

"I think it's probably better that way, anyhow," she said, patting Ginevra's back. "I had to go to Hogwarts by myself, and it was a lot of work."

"Y-you did?"

"Oh, yes," Molly whispered, rocking Ginevra gently. "Uncle Fabian and Uncle Gideon came three years after I did."

"_Really?"_ Bill asked, astonished. "I thought they were your older brothers."

Molly smiled. "No. I went to Hogwarts before they ever did. And I knew all the tricks a _long_ time before them, but it took me a _really_ long time to learn them."

"The tricks?" Bill asked.

"Oh, little things," she said nonchalantly. "Which teachers were nice. Which ones I had to be extra good for. Which classes to take. Oh, and the secret passageways."

She could practically hear Bill's jaw hit the floor.

"Secret p-p-passageways?"

"But you don't need to worry about learning any of that," Molly whispered, hugging him tight to her side. "You don't need to worry about how to get through the magical barrier to Platform 9¾ tomorrow, or what classes you'll need to take. You can just stay here with me and Daddy, and clean out the chicken coop and de-gnome the garden." There was almost a full minute's stunned silence, and Molly smiled.

When Bill spoke again, his voice was very small. "Maybe—I can teach Charlie how to de-gnome the garden."

"Do you think he's old enough to learn?" she asked, trying to sound wary.

"Well," said Bill, "If he is…then…I can go to Hogwarts. But only if Charlie can manage things around here for you."

"You know, I'll bet that if anyone can teach him how to do it, Billy," Molly said, as though she had thought carefully about it and finally come to a decision, "It'll be you."

Bill grinned, and then he yawned. "I'm kind of tired," he said.

"You go get some rest," Molly suggested. "You've got a full day of teaching to get in before your train leaves."

"Right," he whispered. "Thanks, Mum." He got up and scurried out of the sitting room. Molly sighed, closing her eyes again—then she felt a weight sit down on the couch next to her. Bill was back. He kissed her cheek and whispered, "I love you."

"Oh, I love you too, darling," she said, blinking quickly. Bill ran off again. Molly looked down at Ginevra, who, at that moment, wriggled beneath her blanket. She coughed several times, so hard that she woke herself up. Her nose wrinkled with unhappiness, and she coughed a few more times before rubbing her little face against Molly's shoulder and giving a soft wail. Molly patted her back. "Poor girl," she murmured. "Poor Ginevra…it's all right, sweet pea…"

"You handled that pretty well."

Molly smiled in the direction of Arthur's chair. The room was still so dark that she could not see him; nor, apparently, could Bill. Arthur had always hated it when she stayed up alone with a sick baby, and so they had long since made a rule of staying up together whenever a child fell ill. Molly usually managed to stay awake more successfully than Arthur, but Bill's arrival had obviously woken him.

"I spent three hours packing that boy's trunk," she said, patting Ginevra's back and tugging the little blanket up around her shoulders. "He's getting on that train if I have to stick him in there with his books."

"What happened to not wanting your chicks to leave the nest?" Arthur chuckled, leaning forward so that Molly could see him.

"There's a difference between _wanting_ them to go, and _knowing_ they have to," she replied. Ginevra gave another despondent wail and a cough, and Molly hugged her close, kissing her tiny ear. "Besides, we've still got six more hatchlings to go."

Arthur yawned hugely, getting up and coming to sit down beside Molly. He laid an arm around her shoulders. "You're a good Mum, Molly."

She smiled, leaning against his side. "You're a wonderful Daddy." She yawned and passed him Ginevra, who mewled unhappily. Then Molly tucked the baby blanket around her back and she settled onto Arthur's chest, sniffling gently. "Your turn," she murmured, closing her eyes and snuggling against him.


	25. Cold

6 November 2056 – Cold

"Are you cold, Molly?"

"I can manage, dear, thank you."

"Are you sure? Would you like a cup of tea?"

"No…well, would you bring me another blanket? That'll do nicely."

"Of course."

"Oh, thank you, dear." Molly settled against her pillows and sighed as Hermione draped the quilt over her. "That's much better."

"It's chilly out, isn't it?" Hermione asked, pointing her wand at the fire so that the flames jumped a bit higher. She sat down again in the rocker opposite Molly, who lay on cushions on the sofa.

"A bit," Molly agreed. She smiled at her daughter-in-law over her spectacles. "It's always the first week of November, that's when you can feel winter coming on around here." She chuckled. "Once, on my birthday, Arthur insisted that the whole family go to the beach in Tinworth—we visited Shell Cottage for the weekend, and I don't think any of us left the house once."

Hermione laughed as she counted stitches in her knitting; she was working on her portion of the Weasley sweaters this year. She, Fleur, Angelina, and Audrey had all shared the duty since Arthur had died, early last year. "I think I remember him telling me that story."

"He was utterly mad, he insisted that it would be just like the last weekend of summer," Molly murmured fondly. She rolled a single bronze Knut between her fingers as she looked over at the little table nearby that bore Arthur's framed picture, and a vast number of other family photographs. There was a similar set in her bedroom, but Molly preferred not to remain in bed all day when she could manage it, instead enjoying Hermione's and Ron's company elsewhere in the house. They had been staying with her in the Burrow for nearly a month, after she had had a few problems with her health. "When will Ron be home, dear?"

"Mm, he was stopping to look in on the house and to pick up dinner," Hermione said absently, narrowing her eyes at a knot in the yarn. "Should be very soon. He's bringing Harry and Ginny, as well."

"Of course," Molly replied; she had forgotten. It was Thursday, and Thursday meant dinner with the family. This week, nearly everyone happened to be busy, so it was just going to be Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione. In fact, Molly couldn't remember a time when at least the four of them _weren't_ at a weekly dinner—perhaps the week that both Hermione and Ginny had given birth, but that was just about it.

"Apparently Ginny's had another eye examination today," Hermione was saying, "So they may be running a bit late."

"Why on earth—?" Molly asked, looking around at her in shock. "Haven't they put her through enough? It's been three years!"

Hermione sighed heavily and nodded. "I know. But you know what they're like at St. Mungo's. The way she—lost her sight—it's most similar to a Muggle condition, and they won't take that as an answer."

Molly felt a faint flare of heat in the pit of her stomach, the flicker of the old flame that always made her want to protect one of her own. She crossed her arms. "I don't like it."

"Nor do I," Hermione nodded, "But I wouldn't mention that to her or Harry. I don't think they like going every few months, but I think part of it makes them feel a tiny bit better about it all."

Molly rubbed her eyes gently, shaking her head. She felt another chill down her back and hugged her shawl around her thin shoulders a bit more. She noticed Hermione looking at her with concern, and smiled. "You know, dear, I think I will take that tea, if you think we've got time before everyone arrives."

"Of course," Hermione said at once, getting up and hurrying to the kitchen. "I'll only be a moment."

"I'll try and behave myself," Molly said wryly as she disappeared through the doorway. When she was sure that she was alone, she wrapped her arms around herself, trying hard to warm up. She didn't know why, but it seemed that from the time she had lost Arthur last year, she had been persistently cold. Not simply chilled, but a kind of cold that couldn't be remedied by a sweater or a blanket.

She had overheard Hermione and Ron on several occasions discussing with Harry and Ginny the many possible explanations for why Molly might always seem to be shivering. They assumed it had to do with her age, but she knew they didn't really have an answer. Actually, she herself was only certain of an answer during those few moments right before sleep and right before waking up, and it was rather a simple one.

Arthur was there. He was just waiting for her, patiently, keeping an eye on her and the family. Molly even thought she had glimpsed him, once or twice, a silhouette against her bedroom window. It was silly, perhaps, but every now and then, she caught herself saying good night to him. It wasn't at all a bad thing, and she knew that she was not out of her mind, but she did keep it private. She never told anyone how strongly she felt that he was almost always in the Burrow with her.

At first, after he'd died, it was only a shiver or two when she was cooking, or laughing with her family, or holding one of the babies. Then, it would happen in the night, when she was by herself and thinking of him. And then she found herself shivering for an hour or more during the day, whenever she visited his grave in the garden beside Fred's. But lately, the cold had been getting worse, and more frequent. When Molly had fallen so ill last month, and Ron and Hermione had moved in to take care of her, she had noticed that every day, she felt cold for longer and longer periods. Now it was almost all the time, and apart from making her rather sad, because she knew what it meant, it was tiresome. She shivered again and closed her eyes, settling back into the couch. "_Please_ stop that, darling," she whispered, tugging her shawl more tightly around her shoulders. "I know, I know…"

Molly knew that there was a rational explanation; she was very old now and her health was deteriorating, there was no denying that, so naturally she would feel unwell. But a much louder, and more firmly resolved part of her, was convinced that Arthur was behind it, if only because he knew he could still tease her like that. Poking fun at her _would_, of course, be his way of communicating from the hereafter. She closed her fingers tightly around the Knut in her hand. "Barmy old man," she muttered through her teeth.

"Well, I know Harry fixed my hair today, but it can't look that bad," Ginny's voice laughed, and Molly started, opening her eyes. Harry was helping her into the sitting room, and Molly could just see the top of Ron's head over Harry's shoulder, talking to Hermione in the kitchen.

"Oh, Ginny, dear—Harry, how are you?" she asked, reaching out a hand to touch her daughter's. Ginny smiled, lacing their fingers together.

"We're fine," Harry replied, while Ginny seated herself in the chair closest to Molly. "How are you?"

"I am absolutely wonderful, thank you, dear," she assured him, as he bent over and kissed her cheek. Then he turned to Ginny, making sure she got settled. Molly picked up the end of her long, rather haphazard braid, laughing, and whispered loudly, "I wouldn't let him do it again, if I were you."

"I always knew I should've let him practice on Lily when she was younger," Ginny snorted, rolling her eyes. She frowned, squeezing Molly's fingers gently and rubbing them with her other hand. "Your hands are so cold, Mum—aren't you warm enough? You've got a blanket, haven't you?"

"It's just a bit chilly," Molly said casually. "Hermione is bringing some tea."

"Isn't the fire burning?" Ginny asked, turning her head slightly and touching her husband, who was removing her cloak. "Harry?"

"I'll see if I can get it a little higher," he said, leaving her side at last.

Molly smiled gratefully and linked her fingers with Ginny's again, keeping the Knut in her other hand. "How was your day, darling?" she asked, as another little chill—a gentler one, this time—chased down her spine.

* * *

Aww, Mollywobbles...


	26. Secret

Ahh! I can't believe there are only seven left! :( Awww.

* * *

27 January 1967 – Secret

"Arthur, you should really get your eyes examined," said Molly for the umpteenth time. She reached out and patted his arm. "I thought you were going to get it done over Christmas?"

"Didn't have time," Arthur muttered, rubbing his eyes furiously and moving the table lamp closer to his book, which he held open in his lap. He and Molly sat together in armchairs before the fire in the Gryffindor common room. "I'm fine. I'm just tired because it's so late."

"Maybe we ought to go to bed," Molly suggested, yawning and closing her book. She gestured around the Gryffindor common room. "No one else is up."

"I'm not done," Arthur told her, but he looked up and smiled. "You should sleep, though. Go on up. I'll see you in the morning."

Molly shook her head, but rested her nose against her folded arms, peering at him over the side of the chair. "That's all right. I'll keep you company." Her voice was muffled, for only her eyes were visible over the arm of the chair.

"You already re-read that essay six times just to keep me company," he said, laughing. "It's all right. Go to bed."

She arched an eyebrow; he laughed again, because it was all he could see of her face. "Don't you tell me what to do, Arthur Weasley."

He snorted, picking up his quill again. "All right. But I'm afraid that I'm going to be terribly boring."

"Just the way I like you," she said. "Now do your homework."

Arthur smiled and returned to his essay. Time ticked on, but it was not very long before he looked up again and saw that Molly had fallen asleep, her head on her arms. He smiled; her hair looked so lovely, coppery and bronze like a shiny Knut in the firelight. He watched her for a moment, making sure she was asleep. When he was satisfied, he bent over and reached into his bag, producing from a small leather case his new spectacles. They were thick and horn-rimmed, and, in his opinion, quite ugly and unflattering. But he slipped them on his nose and could almost feel his eyes relax. He looked down at the book; everything was much clearer and easier to read. He started in on his essay again with renewed vigor, working quickly for almost half an hour.

"Oh," mumbled Molly, suddenly stirring. Arthur yanked off his glasses and hid them beside his leg, smiling at her. She blinked hazily. "I'm sorry. I fell asleep."

"That's all right," he promised. "I'm almost done, anyway. Why don't you go to bed?"

"No, no," she replied, getting up and stretching. "I'll wait until you're done. I'll just pop upstairs and brush my teeth, all right?" She bent and kissed his cheek, and he blushed furiously. She winked at him, disappearing with her school bag up the girls' stairs. Arthur smiled and put his glasses on again, sure that she was gone. He frowned down at a paragraph about electrical sockets and chuckled. He did like Muggles' ingenuity and strange-looking replacements for magic. And such funny names—_plugs_, honestly.

He scribbled down a few more sentences, frowning slightly. Then he came to his conclusion. He closed his eyes, thinking hard for a moment as he tried to come up with a good final sentence.

"Arthur?"

He jumped a mile, taking his glasses off as he leapt up, stuffing them into his pocket. "M-Molly!" he stammered. She had come back down the stairs wearing her green dressing gown, and was looking at him in confusion. "I-I was just—"

"Are those glasses?" she asked, nodding to his pocket. Arthur felt himself turn scarlet. "Did you get them after all?"

"Well—no—I mean, I did, but—"

"Arthur," Molly chuckled, "What on earth is wrong with you?"

He was silent for a moment. Then, quite suddenly, he burst out, "I _hate_ them, Molly, they look awful. And I won't wear them, especially in front of you." His cheeks burned even darker red. "They look awful," he mumbled again.

Molly pursed her lips, narrowing her eyes. "Let me see," she told him. He didn't move. "Come on, Arthur, let me see."

Heaving a very reluctant sigh, he put his hand in his pocket. "Don't laugh at me."

She smiled. "Of course not."

He pulled the glasses out of his pocket and put them on his nose. Molly gave him an appraising look for several long, silent moments, and he felt his dread mounting. Finally, Arthur could stand it no longer and pulled them off again. "See? They're awful."

"No, they're not," she replied gently, taking a few steps forward. She took the glasses out of his hand and perched them on his nose again. Then she blinked, looking suddenly startled. "Look at that."

"What?" he asked self-consciously, reaching to take them off. She stopped his hand, still smiling. She was, at this moment, very, very close to him.

"You look so grown-up," she told him, and her tone was a little bit breathless, and certainly one that he had never, ever heard before. "They're really very handsome on you."

Arthur stared at her. "R-really? You don't think they're—"

"Of course not," Molly cut him off. "I wouldn't lie to you."

Arthur felt a little swell of pride in his chest. "Thanks," he said.

"Why didn't you tell me, though?" she asked. "You don't need to keep secrets from me, you know that."

"I didn't like them," he answered honestly. "I thought you wouldn't, either."

Molly laughed, sliding her arms up around his neck. "Shows how much you know about me, Arthur Weasley. I happen to _like_ glasses. Particularly with red hair." And she stood up on her tiptoes and kissed him.

Hurriedly, he pulled back, looking all around the common room.

"What?" she asked, looking around as well..

"Just making sure your brothers aren't around," Arthur replied, pulling her in for another kiss. His glasses slid down his nose and bumped Molly's, but neither of them paid much attention.


	27. Breakfast

This one's another favorite...heehee. Li'l Weasleys.

* * *

12 May 1985 – Breakfast

"Fred, George, for heaven's sake, leave Ron _alone!"_ Molly called, as the twins chased Ron up the spiral staircase. "You have five minutes to be in your pajamas, teeth brushed, and ready for bed, or I'm going to put a Leg-Locker Curse on all three of you, and _then_ we'll see how much you like roughhousing!" She heard shrieks of laughter from upstairs.

"Mum? D'you want me to help?" Percy's bespectacled face appeared over an upper landing; he had been in his and Ron's room for hours, reading quietly.

"You're an angel, Percy, darling, thank you!" she called. "Make sure Ronnie's got his right pajamas, please, not the ones that are too small!"

"Okay."

"Mumma?"

Molly looked around. Ginny, who looked terribly confused and upset, stood at the foot of the stairs, dressed in her bright violet footed pajamas, but—

"Oh, sweetheart," said Molly, hurrying over and kneeling down before her. "How did you get into this upside down?"

Ginny shrugged, her face crinkled with a frown. "Can't do the zippy, Mumma," she said, trying to point at it.

"Well, yes, that'll be because you've got your hands in the feet, darling," Molly replied, trying to right her daughter. "Er—"

"Hello?"

"Daddy!" Ginny shrieked, almost scrambling away from Molly's arms and running straight for the fireplace. Molly swung her up and carried her over to the fire, smiling exhaustedly at Arthur's head, floating in the flames. "Daddy!" Ginny yelled again jubilantly, as Molly held her in her lap, still trying to fix the pajamas.

"Hi, sweet pea!" he said happily. Molly appreciated his energy for Ginny; he looked tired out as well.

"When you gonna be home?" she demanded, dangling upside down from Molly's lap so that her red hair brushed the floor. "When?"

"Really soon, I promise," he said. He smiled at Molly, who didn't see. She had finally gotten Ginny sorted out, and zipped up her pajamas. Immediately, Ginny crawled happily into her lap and smiled at her father's head in the fireplace.

"Half-eleven, wasn't it?" Molly asked, wiping her brow and smiling at him.

He looked a little nervous. "I think it'll be a bit later than that, Molly. They've got us doing some extra damage control around here, I don't know what time we'll be done."

"How many Muggles saw it?" Molly asked.

"The apothecary blew up half the street," he replied. "Fortunately no one was hurt, but these people were operating it without a magical permit, so they're well into a Muggle neighborhood. A lot of them saw."

Molly shook her head. "Well, that's just—oh, how foolish!" she snapped.

"When you coming home, Daddy?" Ginny asked, sliding out of Molly's lap and kneeling on the ground. "Miss you!"

"Oh, I miss you too, sweet pea," he replied. "I'll be home tomorrow afternoon, at the very _latest_," he promised.

"Tomorrow _afternoon_!" Molly repeated. "Oh, Arthur…" As if to punctuate how much she desperately needed him to come home, she heard shrieking and laughter from upstairs, as well as some of Percy's shouting.

He winced, looking very apologetic. "I know it's Mother's Day, Molly, but—"

"Mother's Day?" she repeated. "Is it really?" She had forgotten entirely, having been too busy with the children. Even with Bill and Charlie at Hogwarts, the Burrow was loud and hectic.

Arthur looked even guiltier. "I'm so, so sorry. This couldn't have come at a worse time—"

From upstairs, there came more laughter and a very worrisome, very loud _BANG_. Molly looked up anxiously, but saw nothing that looked like smoke and still heard laughter. The boys hadn't wounded each other yet. Ginny immediately went bounding for the stairs.

"Hey!" she shouted. "Hey! Alla you, shh! Mumma says shh!"

Arthur smiled slightly. "She's deputized herself, I see."

"I should say so," Molly replied. "I'd better make sure all their limbs are still on."

"I'll let you go," he agreed. "Happy Mother's Day. Can I make you dinner tomorrow night, to make up for it?"

"Oh, I'll think about it," she teased tiredly. "I love you."

"Love you."

It was half an hour before Percy, Ron, Fred, and George were finally all in their beds and drifting off to sleep. Molly did one last sweep of the house. She set a massive load of laundry to washing itself and then went on her rounds, ensuring that the doors were locked, that all hands on the clock were where they ought to be, and that the children were all comfortable in their beds. She had to take off Percy's glasses; he had fallen asleep reading again. Ron was snoring impressively, so Molly turned him over onto his side and kissed him. At last, she checked on Fred and George's room, where she was unsurprised to find Ginny in Fred's bed. She often sneaked off after Molly had tucked her in to go and sleep next to one of the twins; before she could walk, Fred and George would simply take her out of her crib to their room. Molly scooped Ginny up and carried her into the little broom cupboard that Arthur was working on expanding for her bedroom, tucking her in again.

"Mumma," she murmured sleepily. She didn't want to release Molly's neck.

Molly smiled and pried her off, kissing her little hands. "Go back to sleep, Ginny, darling," she told her gently.

"Stay wit me?" Ginny asked. "Monstuhs…'n daggons."

Molly sighed and smiled. "All right," she whispered, settling down on the floor beside the little bed. "I'm right here. No dragons, I promise." Ginny nodded, still holding her hand, and started to fall asleep. It was well after midnight that Molly, having finished the laundry, dishes, and all the sweeping and dusting that she hadn't had time for during the day, finally collapsed in bed. She set her alarm clock for very early in the morning and then fell totally asleep.

* * *

"Mumma?"

She felt as though she had only just closed her eyes, but Molly forced them open. It was already morning. Sunlight streamed through the room, and Ginny sat cross-legged on the bed directly next to her, her enormous brown eyes inches from Molly's face.

"G'morning!" she said triumphantly, throwing her arms up straight in the air when she saw that Molly had opened her eyes. "Happy Mumma's Day!"

Molly chuckled, pulling herself up and leaning against the headboard for a moment to wake up more fully. "Thank you, sweetheart…you're up very early. How did you know it was Mother's Day?"

"Daddy," said Ginny matter-of-factly.

"Oh, you were listening to Daddy last night," said Molly, nodding. She smiled. "Clever girl." She pulled Ginny into her arms and gave her a kiss. "Shall we get some breakfast for you and your brothers?" Then she caught sight of the clock and yelped. It was after ten o'clock. She had slept straight through her alarm. "Oh, no—oh, no, no, _no!_"

"Happy Mother's Day!"

All at once, the bedroom door banged open, admitting a miniature parade led by Ron, Fred, George, and Percy, who was carrying a pot of tea very carefully. And after him came—

"Arthur!" Molly cried.

"Surprise," he said, beaming at her. "I may have exaggerated a bit last night. I turned off the alarm. Hope you don't mind." He carried a massive tray full of breakfast food, a stack of homemade cards, a small wrapped gift, and a bouquet of wildflowers. "Happy Mother's Day." He set the tray over her lap and kissed her. "To my favorite Mum."

"Got you, Mumma," Ginny giggled, cuddling close to Molly's side as the rest of the boys piled on the bed as well.

"Yes, you did," Molly laughed.


	28. Proposal

30 August 1969 – Proposal

Arthur whistled as he trotted down Diagon Alley to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, thoroughly enjoying the sunny late summer day. He spotted Molly sitting at one of the tables under an umbrella, with her back to him, so he sneaked up behind her and touched her nose.

"Arthur!" she squealed, leaping up and throwing her arms around his neck. "Oh, I missed you!"

"Me too," he laughed, giving her a kiss. "How was France?"

Molly shook her head. "It was amazing, but six weeks was too long to be gone."

He grinned. "I've only got an hour off work," he said apologetically.

She smiled sadly. "I thought so. Me too." She took his hand. "Let's order, and we can sit out here."

"Yeah, we'd better make this quick," he agreed, making his voice businesslike and brusque. Molly rolled her eyes, leading him inside.

"What can I get you?" asked Mr. Fortescue pleasantly.

They ordered quickly, and after they had taken their table on the sidewalk again, Arthur decided to drop the bad news. "Er…Molly?"

"Hm?"

"I can't take you to the Quidditch match this weekend," he said. "I know I said I would, but—"

"Oh, Arthur, really?" she asked, sounding terribly disappointed. "But why not? I thought it was going to be our first real date after I got back…"

"It was," he said. "But I need to go up to Scotland," he said. "I have to see an aunt, who's—ill." He heard the stumble in his voice and cursed himself. "She's got dragon pox, nasty stuff," he continued. Why was he inflating the lie? Stop, Arthur, stop!

But it was too late. Molly's eyes narrowed. "A sick aunt?" she asked.

Arthur nodded fervently.

Molly sat up straight, setting aside her spoon and removing her hands from the table so that Arthur couldn't see them. If he had to guess, he would say that they were most likely locked tightly together in order to stop her from strangling him. "Which aunt?"

"My great one." Oh, for Merlin's sake. Had Molly gotten some sun in France, or was she just turning red?

"Is there something you're not telling me, Arthur?" she asked stiffly.

"N-no," he lied.

Molly was silent for a moment, but she didn't break her gaze from his, not even to blink. "How's Cassandra?"

"Who?" he asked, genuinely dumbfounded; this seemed to make Molly angry.

"The redheaded girl from the Accidental Magic Reversal trainees," she said delicately. "How's she?"

Arthur laughed in relief; this was a big mistake. "I wouldn't know," he said hastily. "Haven't seen her in weeks."

This time, when she went quiet, Molly did look away. "Arthur, you know, I genuinely thought that you'd have a little more respect for me—for _us—_than this."

Arthur frowned. "What?"

"Just tell me the truth about why we aren't going to the Cannons match," she said. She wouldn't look up from her lap. "Just tell me the truth, and I'll leave."

"_Leave?_" he asked incredulously. _"Leave?"_

"Did you—I don't know, did you—did you kiss someone else, while I was gone?" she asked. "Did you kiss Cassandra?"

"Molly, you're being totally irrational," Arthur replied, feeling a little hot under the collar. "Be reasonable! You were only gone for six weeks!"

"Irrational?" she repeated. "Excuse me?"

"Yes, irrational!" Arthur said loudly; a few people in the vicinity turned and stared at them. "I break _one_ date, _one_, in seven years of seeing you, for a real reason—"

"A real reason?" she scoffed. "That's the flimsiest lie I've ever heard!"

Arthur threw his hands up, exasperated. "What do you want me to say, Molly?"

"I want the truth! I want to know why you won't just tell me _why_ it's suddenly so important for you to break our date, after I spend an entire summer away, leaving you alone with every new female Ministry worker doing her summer training—"

"Bloody hell!"

"Don't swear at me!"

"Don't accuse me of going after other girls, then, Molly!" he snapped.

"I'm leaving," she said coldly, standing and picking up her handbag. "We'll just talk about this later. Have a nice _weekend_."

"Bloody—d'you wanna get married, or not?" he shouted.

"Yes!" Molly shouted back. Then she froze. "Wait, what?"

"Like we haven't been talking about it for a year," he replied. At some point, he had gotten to his feet as well. "I'm trying to give you your proposal, Molly," he said, a little more quietly.

"What—but," she stammered, "But—"

"I have to see my aunt to get the ring," he told her. "If you weren't—"

"Completely bloody _mad!_" she cried, tears filling her eyes. "Oh, Arthur, I—I wasn't—I'm sorry! I didn't know!"

"Sort of the point," he grumbled. He sighed and felt around in his pockets for a moment. His fingers closed on a bronze Knut, his change from the ice cream parlor. He pulled it out and knelt down on the cobblestone sidewalk; a few passersby stared at him. Molly was crying in earnest. He held up the Knut. "Will you, Molly, you mad, utterly barking lunatic—marry me?"

She laughed and her tears spilled over. She took the Knut out of his hand with trembling fingers. "Of course I will."

Arthur gave a sigh of relief. "All right, then." He stood up and kissed her. "Now will you sit down again?"

"Oh, I don't think I can eat," she replied; she was so excited she couldn't even pick up her spoon. She kept looking down at the Knut as though it was the largest diamond she had ever seen. Arthur's impatience dissolved, and he smiled. She looked up at him and blushed. "What?"

"Er—nothing," he lied. "Can I have that?" he asked, pointing to her unfinished ice cream.

Molly beamed at him, and, as if for the very first time in all his years of loving her, Arthur felt his heart soar.

* * *

Aha! The answer to many a question I have received! Inspiration for this story comes from my own parental units, who got engaged in the middle of a fight as they ate breakfast in a diner. Thank goodness for suspicions about ex-girlfriends! I might not be here without them! XD hehehehe


	29. Pain

keeptheotherone gave me the idea for this story! :) Thank you, my dear! I am in full agreement with her that this particular summer was a pivotal one for the Weasleys. N'aww. Poor Ginny.

* * *

6 July 1993 – Pain

"Molly?"

"Shh, Arthur, I'm here. Have you just got home?"

Arthur frowned through the darkness of Ginny's tiny bedroom at his wife, who was sitting on Ginny's bed, holding their sleeping daughter wrapped in a blanket in her lap. He smiled gently. "She's getting a little big for that, isn't she?"

Molly kissed the top of Ginny's head, hugging her close. "Never."

"Did she have another nightmare?" he asked, reaching out and touching Ginny's hair.

"I think so," Molly replied. She paused for a moment. "She wouldn't say." Then she gave a sigh. "I suppose she ought to go back to bed. Help me?"

Arthur nodded and scooped Ginny awkwardly out of Molly's arms—she was still quite light, which he knew Molly was trying to remedy with six square meals a day—but she was getting taller by the second, it seemed. He settled her on the bed again as Molly moved away, and she rolled onto her side, curling up in a ball beneath her quilt. Arthur kissed her head, and she sighed softly.

Then he turned to Molly, who was stretching. She gave him a half-smile, took his hand, and followed him out of the room, leaving Ginny's door open just a crack.

"Here," Arthur whispered. He flicked his wand and turned on the hall lights, so that if she wanted to, Ginny could come and find them.

Molly smiled and kissed his cheek. "Listen to that rain," she murmured as they climbed the stairs. It pattered loudly on the roof of the Burrow, as a distant roll of thunder sounded overhead, and lightning flickered in the windows. "Will you check the chicken coop in the morning?"

"All right," Arthur replied, holding open their bedroom door for her. He yawned hugely; it was after three in the morning. "It's late, Molly—I thought you'd be in bed already."

"I was, after I got your owl about staying at the office," Molly replied. She removed her dressing gown and climbed under the covers, turning to face Arthur's side of the bed. "Then I heard her crying."

"You haven't slept much," Arthur said, quickly changing into his pajamas and sliding in next to her. He reached out, rubbing her arm gently as they lay close together in the grayish light from the rain-drenched window.

Molly was quiet for a moment. "I don't know that I can."

"What, sleep?" Arthur asked.

"I'm not just being silly," Molly told him quickly, "I—I've always—whenever one of them—if they're in pain, I just…I can't sleep. Do you remember the first time Bill got sick?"

Arthur smiled gently and took her hand. "I know. But Ginny is—"

"_Don't_ tell me she's safe, Arthur," Molly cut him off, sounding very tired. "_Please_ don't. Not again."

"Well," he said, trying to be gently reassuring, "she is."

Molly sat up at once, and the lights in the bedroom blazed on. Arthur pushed himself up, blinking spots out of his eyes.

"Is she?" Molly demanded. "She barely sleeps or eats, she's convinced that we're angry at her, probably because she spends more time alone with her thoughts than with her family, and when she's not tiptoeing around the house because she refuses to go outside, she's hiding in her bedroom, crying her eyes out over what _he_ did to her! He's supposed to be gone, Arthur," she added furiously. "He wasn't supposed to _ever_ come back! Ginny's never had to imagine a world where he existed, and now, I just—what if he's still with her? What if he's still in her head? I don't know—"

"He _is_ gone, Molly," Arthur said, sounding a bit firmer than he truly felt. He too had been shaken by this unexpected Dark resurgence, and to think that just a few weeks ago, he could have lost his daughter for good to You-Know-Who… Arthur shook his head. "Whatever this magic was, it wasn't _really_ him. It can't have been him…"

Molly folded her arms, shaking her head as she looked away from him. She was silent for a moment. "I'm not so sure of that, Arthur." He felt a shiver run down his spine. Another peal of thunder echoed out, and lightning flashed through the curtains. "But that's not the point, at the moment," she continued. "The point is—" she sniffled, "—our girl is hurt, and—and I don't know how to make it easier for her." She leaned back against the headboard and sniffed again. "I don't know how to make her stop hurting. What on earth are you _smirking_ at, Arthur Weasley?" she demanded suddenly, whipping out a hand to smack his shoulder.

"Ouch! Nothing," he cried, jumping out of bed and away from her as he sobered his expression at once. "I was just thinking—"

"You're giggling as I tell you my worries about Ginny, you—come back over here!"

"Now, I'm not laughing at that," Arthur said seriously. He reached a hand into his briefcase. "You know I wouldn't do that—but you just gave me a rather curious idea, Molly." He pulled up the very heavy leather bag that he had packed safely into the depths of his briefcase.

Molly stared at it. "What—?"

He took the bag and dropped it on the bed, and the coins inside made a series of pleasant _clinks_. Molly leapt up, staring at the bag as though it were a snake. She pressed her back against the door.

"Do you remember a certain Fred Weasley who told me, this past Christmas, that I ought to enter a certain annual _Daily Prophet_ contest?" Arthur asked nonchalantly. "Well, Molly, I may be taking some more gambling tips from our fifteen-year-old, in the future."

"Arthur!" Molly cried. "Do you mean to tell me you won—you won—?"

"One thousand Galleons," he said happily, settling himself on the bed and picking up the bag, jostling it around in his hands. He grinned at Molly, who was positively white. "And I want to take us on a holiday, maybe to see Bill, or Charlie. And we can have some time alone, just our family. I think it'd be good for Ginny to see Bill, don't you?"

"Arthur!" Molly clasped her hands over her mouth. "I just—I just can't believe—one _thousand_ Galleons?"

Arthur beamed. "They did the drawing today, in Diagon Alley. I went just to see, and then they called my name. We're going to have our names in the paper and everything!"

Molly had seated herself on the bed, but was still looking at the bag of money as though it might bite her. "Sh-shouldn't we—save it?"

Arthur nodded. "Well, we certainly won't use it _all_ on the trip—but I think that what we all really need right now is some time for the family. Don't you think Ginny would feel better if she got a change of scenery and saw Bill and Charlie?"

Molly bit her lip. "I…I do," she said slowly, and he could see in her eyes how badly she wanted to make the trip.

"Well, then," Arthur said, "It's settled. We can get the kids up early and surprise them at breakfast!" He grinned hugely; there were few things he loved more than playing a joke on Fred and George, and waking them at the crack of dawn during their summer holidays was too delicious an opportunity to pass up…

"Dad?"

He looked around; Ginny had just poked her head in the bedroom door as another crack of thunder sounded.

"Ginny, dear—did we wake you?" Molly asked, hurrying over to let her in.

Ginny shook her head, but smiled at Arthur. "You're home late."

"We had eleven raids today," Arthur told her, holding his arms open. She climbed on the bed and sat beside him. He kissed her hair, hugging her tightly. "How was your day?"

"What's that?" she asked, pointing at the sack of money that still sat on the bed.

Molly and Arthur shared a glance. "Well," Arthur said slowly, "I think you might want to wait until tomorrow morning and find out with your brothers."

Ginny scoffed. "Not likely," she said, sounding much more like her usual self. "Come on, what is it?"

Arthur laughed. "Well, maybe it's…a little something that we might be able to use for a special sort of trip."

Ginny frowned confusedly at him, and then looked around at Molly. "Has Dad emptied out the vault again?"

"I should think not," Molly chuckled. She glanced at Arthur, who nodded. "Open it."

Still frowning, Ginny reached forward and pulled the sack open. "Whoa," she murmured, looking around at Arthur. "Where did this come from?"

"The _Daily Prophet_ Galleon Draw," he replied. Ginny's eyes went wide.

"But—but that's—"

"_That_ is a family holiday—to Egypt, maybe, or to Romania," Arthur told her. "Would you like to go and see your brothers? We just went to Romania…maybe Egypt?"

"Are you _serious_?" she cried, looking between her parents. _"Really?"_

"Really," Molly laughed, looking amazed. Arthur felt rather stunned, himself; this was the liveliest he had seen Ginny in days.

"And—and I can go?" she asked.

"Of course you can," Arthur laughed, rubbing her back. "Why wouldn't we let you go?"

Ginny blinked, seemingly paused on the edge of speech—and then shook her head, as though clearing away an unpleasant thought. "This is going to be great," she said happily. "I'm so excited!" And she threw her arms around Arthur's neck. "Good job, Dad!"

"Tell that to Fred, he told me to enter my name." He met Molly's eyes over Ginny's shoulder; she looked very upset. Then, a thought occurred to him. He pulled Ginny off of his neck. "I have an idea," he said. "After we tell the boys tomorrow morning, why don't you and I go to Diagon Alley and do a little early school shopping?"

Ginny stared at him and turned a little pink. "No, no, Dad, I don't need anything," she insisted. "You've got work."

"Oh, I can take the morning off, I think. Mum says you could do with some new robes for school," Arthur said, catching Molly's eye. "Just you and I—we'll go together, and you can have a brand-new set. And maybe we'll stop at Florean Fortescue's. What do you think?"

"Well, I—I," Ginny stammered, looking around at Molly, who made a gesture that said plainly, _It's up to you._ Ginny looked back to her father. "I'd…like that, Dad. Thanks."

"Sure, sweet pea," he replied gently, smoothing her hair back.

Then, directly over the house, a clap of thunder sounded yet again, and Ginny closed her eyes, stiffening suddenly. A lump rose in Arthur's throat. He reached forward and pulled Ginny into his arms. Automatically, she curled against his side, huddling down into a little ball. He bent awkwardly to kiss the top of her head. Molly shook her head, rubbing her eyes, and climbed onto the bed. She put the sack of Galleons on the bedside table. Then she raised her wand and flicked out the lights before lying down, hugging Ginny gently against Arthur and pulling the quilt up over all three of them. Ginny gave a faint sniffle in the darkness, and Molly clutched Arthur's hand.


	30. Moonlight

Here we have the (in)famous story of a mischievous young Molly and Arthur... XD

"What were you doing out of your dormitory at four in the morning?"

"Your father and I had been for a nighttime stroll..."

* * *

22 June 1968 – Moonlight

Molly yawned widely and stretched, waking up blearily. Then she sat up, startled, and looked all around. The Gryffindor common room was dark and empty, and only a few embers still flickered in the fireplace. She looked at her watch. It was nearly two o'clock in the morning, and she and Arthur had fallen asleep, still in their day clothing, on the rug before the fire. Perhaps they had celebrated a little _too_ hard with their classmates.

But it was the end of exams, and what else could they do, honestly? The common room was strewn with empty butterbeer bottles, Gryffindor flags, streamers, and torn-up exam papers. She reached over and poked her boyfriend's shoulder. "Arthur. _Arthur. _Oh, honestly, do you always sleep like this? Arthur!"

His face was pressed into the Oriental carpet, his glasses askew. He jerked awake, looking around confusedly. "Where's everybody gone?" he mumbled.

"It's two in the morning," Molly told him, rubbing her neck tiredly. "Up you get, time to go to your dormitory…"

Arthur yawned, pulling himself up and leaning against the armchair behind him. He smiled sleepily and held his arms out for Molly. "Come here," he said.

"What if someone comes down?" she asked. "Come on, I want to go to sleep…"

"Just a quick kiss, and then I _swear_ I'll let you go," he replied.

"Liar," Molly muttered, but she came close and wrapped her arms around him anyway. She sighed, resting her head on his chest. "I can't believe we're finished with Hogwarts."

Arthur hummed his agreement. "It doesn't seem like it's been that long since we were first years."

"It'll be strange, not coming back in September," Molly murmured. She felt a lump rise in her throat, and her eyes smarted. "I've been so happy here…"

"Me too," said Arthur.

"You'll have to come by this summer," she said. She couldn't sound happy about it, but she knew that Arthur understood. "We have to make them see that they—they have to accept us. My parents…well, they think—they think that I'm going to outgrow you, like a jumper or something—" She sat up and looked at him. "They're wrong."

Arthur smiled halfheartedly. "My family has no money. That's why they don't like me."

"And what a stupid reason," Molly said vehemently. Arthur's smile became a little more genuine. He picked up the end of one of her long red curls, playing with it.

"Well, it's a good reason, in some ways," he said quietly.

Molly stared at him. "Arthur?"

He seemed to shake himself. "Do you want to go for a walk?"

"What?"

"Why don't we see if Pringle's left the doors unlocked? I'll bet he has," Arthur wheedled, lighting up suddenly.

"Are you mad? It's the middle of the night, we'll get caught for sure!" she laughed.

"Come on, Molly—just this once? This is probably our last chance." He widened his eyes.

She shoved his shoulder. "Fine. Come on, then." She stood and held out her hand, which he took, grinning.

Mercifully, the Fat Lady was sleeping—though this could be problematic when they finally came back—and they met no one as they crept down seven flights to the entrance hall. Molly hardly dared to believe it when, after very little effort and no fuss whatsoever, she and Arthur were outside, gazing up at a clear summer sky full of stars and a beautiful crescent moon dangling over the castle.

"Oh," she sighed.

Arthur was leading her towards the lake, their favorite spot. "Glad I made you sneak out?"

Molly smirked at him, linking their fingers together. "It's beautiful."

"See over there?" he asked, pointing to a spot on the edge of the lake. "That's where you told me, in second year, that you'd never speak to me again."

Molly blushed. "I was being silly."

"_I_ was being a nasty little berk," Arthur corrected her. He smiled. "_And_ you were being silly." She laughed.

"I was jealous, you know," she said. "That's why I got so angry at you. I thought…I thought you liked Emmeline."

"And it still took _two_ years for you to agree to go out with me!" he laughed. They were walking along the banks of the lake, now, shimmering and rippling in the moonlight under the gentle breeze that blew over the grounds.

"Well, that was before I met Ricky," Molly replied, batting her eyelashes. Arthur rolled his eyes and pulled her hair gently. "Ouch," she pouted. This produced the desired effect: Arthur stopped walking beneath their favorite tree, and sat down. He held his arms up for Molly, who joined him, curling close.

For a long time, the only sounds on the grounds were the occasional croaks of the toads down in the reeds, the _whoosh_ of the gentle wind over the lawn, and a few solitary crickets chirping slowly. Molly closed her eyes for a moment and took a slow, silent breath, holding it. One…two…three…

"Molly?" Arthur whispered in her ear. She looked at him. His face was very close to hers, and her stomach fluttered a little. "Did you mean it…when you told your parents you wouldn't outgrow me?"

Molly stared right into his eyes, so that he would know she was serious. "Yes."

For some reason, this seemed to make him rather nervous. "Then…can I ask you something?"

He might as well have shouted it at the top of his lungs, to believe the way it rang in Molly's ears. Her heart began pounding. It wasn't as though she was stupid. She had thought of this. She had thought of a _lot_ of things, including this conversation and everything that could possibly stem from it, but she was a hippogriff if she had any real answers. "All right," she whispered.

"Next week," he said slowly, "When we get off the train…do you…do you want to go to—to the Ministry, and…"

"Arthur," she blurted out, squeezing her eyes shut. She took his hand. "Arthur, I—well, first—first, I want you to know that…that there is nothing—_nothing—_that I would rather do more than—that." The look on Arthur's face was akin to one who had just had his worst nightmare come to life in front of him, so Molly hurried on. "And _for_ that reason…I want to—I want to stop being dependent on my parents before we do it. They're never, never going to approve," she said. "I know it. But I want to start off well, with you—I want us both to have jobs, and money, and—"

"And we can't do that on our first day out of Hogwarts," he muttered, looking more dejected than Molly thought anyone could possibly be. "I get it."

"Arthur Weasley," she said sharply. "I don't know what _your_ plans are, but I know that I'm going to get a job, save up my money, and marry you, whether or not my parents say I can. Now, are you going sit and mope about how we can't be together right away, or are you going to do something to make our wedding day get here faster?" she demanded.

He stared at her, looking cowed. Then he laughed, in a very frightened sort of way. "Er…the second one, I guess…Merlin's pants, Molly…"

She grinned. "That's what I thought." And she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.

"Does that mean I have to actually propose?" he asked, breaking away for a moment.

"Whilst riding a unicorn, please," Molly told him. And she kissed him again.

They ended up staying out by the lake, talking happily, until about four, when the sky started turning gray in the pre-dawn hour. They had made it almost all the way back to Gryffindor Tower, confident that their sneaking out had been a success, when—

"WEASLEY!"

* * *

"Have I ever told you about my astoundingly brave boyfriend, whom I sat up worrying about all night long?" Molly asked, as Arthur eased himself onto the bench at the Gryffindor table the next morning.

"Hope you're going to marry him," he winced. Molly gave him a look, and he put on a face of exaggerated surprise. "Oh, you meant me."

Molly smiled and kissed his cheek.


	31. Last

I can't believe this! We're almost done! AHHH!

Okay, in the grand tradition of the depressing sadness that precedes the overwhelmingly joyful finales of both Honestly, Ronald and Oh, Harry...I present the penultimate chapter of Really, Arthur.

* * *

31 December 2054 – Last

They were much too old to go out to a New Year's Eve party, they decided, though all of the children had invited them to something or another, promising a quiet evening. Molly had turned them down, politely, of course, saying that she didn't want to stay up all that late, and that she'd had a bit of a cold she wanted to look after before Ron and Hermione's anniversary party on New Year's Day.

But in reality, Arthur was the reason they declined.

He was slowing down, bit by bit; they both knew it. Well, so was she, if she was honest, but they were both well past one hundred years old. It could hardly be helped, at their age. And yet in the last few months, Molly had particularly noticed that, in dozens of small ways, her Arthur was getting tired. He didn't go out to his shed very much—no comfortable chairs out there, he said. He slept earlier and woke later, with naps in the afternoon—he insisted that he was catching up on all those sleepless nights with the babies. He preferred to sit in his armchair by the fire and chat rather than go on walks with her, even just out in the garden—he didn't want Molly to catch cold on his account.

Getting old was a delicate activity, Molly thought, as she and Arthur sat together on New Year's Eve, a few hours after they'd had their dinner. She tipped slowly back and forth in her rocking chair, her knitting needles clacking and clicking in midair before her as she balled some lovely, soft yellow yarn. She also kept a watchful eye over Arthur as he dozed in his armchair, a book open in his lap. There was as much happiness in getting older as there was sadness.

The happiness—well, that was easy. Their family and friends brought them more joy every single day than Molly could have hoped for in a lifetime. Weddings, babies, birthdays, engagements, anniversaries—anything and everything they brought her set her heart aglow. But there were smaller things, too, that she treasured. She loved those rare, quiet days when none of the children came calling, seeking advice about baby bottles and Hogwarts worries and job offers, and they were just Molly and Arthur. On those days, they were just the sweet elderly couple up the road, and not Mum and Dad or Gran and Granddad, but just themselves. And then there were things like making tea for one another, and holding onto each other's hands for balance when they walked, and long mornings in bed, when they just didn't think about why Arthur was too tired to get up right away, and turned it into something happy.

Arthur stirred suddenly, waking up. He opened his eyes and immediately found Molly. He smiled. "Hi there, Mollywobbles."

She smiled back; how could she not, when he looked at her that way? "Did you have a nice nap?" she asked. He nodded, sitting up slightly, but groaned. "Oh, sweetheart," she said, "I'm sorry—I shouldn't have let you fall asleep there again."

He chuckled, massaging his lower back gently. "I deserved it," he said. He picked up the book that he'd had in his lap. "Albus has been trying to get me to read this book for ages, and what do I do? Fall asleep." He shook his head, thumbing through to find his page and adjusting his glasses.

"Do you want some of that calming tea? You said it makes you feel better," Molly offered. "I'll go put some on, shall I?" She flicked her wand and her knitting floated aside so that she could push herself up out of her chair.

"Don't trouble yourself, Molly," Arthur insisted. "No, no—sit down—"

"I'm already up," she replied, rubbing her hip. She was going to have to remember to ask Hermione for some more of that potion that had helped her so much the last time. She took Arthur's hand. "Back in a minute."

"I'm timing you," he called, as she made her way to the kitchen.

Delicate, Molly thought, flicking her wand so that the kettle filled with water and began to bubble over the fire. Delicate was the word. For all the happiness that she and Arthur enjoyed so much, getting older meant saying goodbye to little parts of themselves and each other. Molly's knees hardly allowed her to climb the stairs anymore. Arthur had spent more than one full day in bed in the last month, not that Molly had told anyone in the family about it. Their eyesight, their strength, Arthur's hair, Molly's hearing—it was all going away.

It wasn't as though she was unprepared for it. After all, that was what life was all about, happy and sad mingling together in the strangest ways. But in moments like this, when she could look at the person she had loved for nearly all of her life and see that he was a very tired old man, barely able to stay awake in his armchair, it just felt sad. Was it selfish, to want to keep Arthur with her even longer than she'd already had him?

She finished arranging the tea service and flicked her wand. It floated a foot or so before her as she came back to the sitting room. "Here we are," she sang, directing the tea tray to settle itself on the table and bending over it for a moment to pour. She brought Arthur his cup and smiled, kissing the top of his head.

"You're wonderful," he told her, beaming.

She blushed and picked up her own cup, moving to settle back in her rocking chair again. They drank their tea in comfortable silence. Ah, here was a happy moment. Molly could feel her spirits lift slightly, with the fire burning and the house creaking and settling all around them. How she loved the Burrow! It was a vessel for absolutely everything—anger, happiness, sorrow—anything and everything that had been said and done in the last hundred years or so, the Burrow had imbibed and made into something new and beautiful and deeply meaningful to Molly and, she knew, to Arthur. The Burrow was their home, and it would be their home long after they were both gone; they had seen to that.

Unexpectedly, quite out of nowhere, the clock on the mantelpiece chimed a quarter to midnight. Molly startled out of her reverie and looked over at Arthur, who was frowning in concentration at his book. "It's late, darling," she said. "Almost midnight."

He looked up, yawning widely. "Almost the new year," he said, grinning at her. "Again."

Molly gave a short laugh. "We've had a few, haven't we?"

"A few," he agreed, frowning thoughtfully. He sat up slightly and stretched his back out. "Ah, I think it's time to head to bed," he told her.

Molly nodded. "We've got an anniversary dinner here tomorrow."

"Oh, that's right," Arthur said, shaking his head. "I forgot—Merlin's beard, it's been a long time since that wedding."

"I can plan it for a bit earlier, if you think you'll want to get to bed?" she asked anxiously.

He looked at her as though she'd gone mad. "I should say not!"

"All right, then," she laughed. She flicked her wand, and her knitting wrapped itself up neatly and tucked itself into her basket. Then she got to her feet again and moved to stand before Arthur's chair. "Shall we, Mr. Weasley?"

"Can you help me up? I think I've been sitting here too long," he chuckled. Molly stared at him for a moment, frozen; he almost never asked for help.

"Of course," she said, hoping her voice sounded much more natural than it did to her own ears. She bent and put her arm around him. "Can you lean on me, darling—oh! Arthur—mm…"

When he finally broke the kiss, Molly felt slightly dazed, and her heart was skipping beats. "What was that for?" she asked weakly.

"Oh, I just wanted to kiss you," he replied, already getting himself out of his chair and grinning cheekily at her. "Can you pass me my—thanks," he said as Molly picked up his cane from where it had been propped by the hearth.

"Very slick, Arthur," she said, coming close and wrapping her arms around his waist.

"I do what I can," he replied, smiling down at her. He glanced up at the clock and reached into his pocket. "Only a couple of minutes to go," he said, flicking his wand. The wireless in the corner crackled to life—by some magic of the universe, "A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love" was playing on a replay of an old Celestina Warbeck special. Arthur hugged her. "You know, I've always hated this song," he said.

Molly snorted, resting her head against his chest. Gently, stiffly, Arthur began to sway on the spot. Leaning on his cane, he guided her in a circle, dancing in half time to the music. Molly smiled; she couldn't help it.

"Except this bit," he said, as Celestina reached the long, loud finale. "This bit always reminds me of you." She hugged him tighter still as the song's final notes coiled through the air and dissolved. Arthur pointed at the clock. "Here we go," he said, as it began its little song and chimed out the hour. "Nine…ten…eleven…twelve."

"Happy New Year," Molly murmured, closing her eyes and holding so tightly to Arthur that her arms hurt. She felt his hand gently brush against her cheek, and looked up, hoping the tears in her eyes weren't too noticeable. He gave her a faint smile that told her that he knew exactly everything she had been thinking of; but of course he did. He was her Arthur.

They helped each other up the stairs to their bedroom, limping and aching and creaking and chuckling quietly to each other about _actually_ having stayed up all the way until midnight, if only accidentally. Molly helped Arthur into bed first, then climbed in beside him and nestled into his arms, as usual. He kissed the top of her head. "You know, Mollywobbles," he said gently, sounding completely exhausted as he combed his fingers through her hair, "I think that's the last one I have in me."

Molly closed her eyes. "I know," she whispered, trying to hold back her tears.

"One of my _wonderful_ wife's many _wonderful_ qualities," he replied with a faint laugh, touching her cheek again softly. "But I don't want you worrying about it right now. I'm not. And I'm not going anywhere yet."

Molly pushed herself up, gazing down at him for a moment. Then she turned to her bedside table, feeling around in the drawer. She held up their Knut. "Promise?"

"I swear it," he replied, taking it from her.

"Then I believe you," she said softly. He smiled at her, and it was like a ray of sun, right in her heart. "I've always believed you." And she lay down close to him again, closing her eyes. No time with Arthur would ever be enough, but whether it was one more day, one more week, or one more month—he was hers to grow old with, and hers alone.


	32. Vow

Aww...guys, this is it! Thank you for all your reviews. I hope that no matter when you read this, you'll drop me a note to say what you thought. Molly and Arthur, in my mind, represent the true love that infuses the entire series of books. This makes them fun to write, but also difficult-it's hard to hit the right notes without becoming sentimental or silly. I hope you've enjoyed reading these shots as much as I've enjoyed writing them for you.

Love always,

Lucy

* * *

30 June 2000 – Vow

"All right, Mum," said Ginny's voice in her ear. She kissed Molly's cheek and squeezed her shoulders. "Open your eyes."

Molly did, and her mouth fell open as she looked at her reflection. "Oh…my."

Ginny bent over, beaming at her in the mirror. "You look beautiful. And your hair's gotten really long."

Molly put a hand over her chest, trying to stop her heart from racing. Ginny had twisted small sections of her hair into two delicately coiled strands that met in the back—similar to the way she usually wore it, but for the first time in years, the rest of her hair was hanging freely in its gentle, ginger-colored curls. She looked like a completely different person, at least to her own eyes. She leaned forward, touching her temple.

"Where'd all the gray go?" she laughed.

Ginny kissed her cheek again. "You haven't got any gray. Stop fishing for compliments, I won't give them to you."

Molly swatted her arm. "Thank you, sweetheart," she said.

Ginny nodded, looking down at her watch. "I'll tell Fleur you're ready to put the dress on," she said, ducking out the bedroom door and disappearing.

After she had gone, Molly closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. She had no reason on earth to be nervous, but that didn't stop her heart from fluttering, nor had it stopped her from being unable to eat a thing at breakfast or lunch. The boys—Harry, included—had abducted Arthur last night for a faux stag party, while Ginny, Fleur, little Victoire, and Hermione had all stayed at the Burrow for a celebration of their own—even Andromeda and Teddy had come along.

Molly was renewing her vows to Arthur today, their thirtieth anniversary, in their garden at sunset. She had never thought that this sort of thing would be for them, but…somehow, now, after everything, it seemed right. She stood and walked to look out the window, where she could just see the tops of the trees in the orchard. It was the perfect end of a perfect summer day, breezy and warm. The event wasn't going to be very fancy; they were only expecting around thirty people, including the family.

Molly hadn't been allowed outside the Burrow all day. The girls—including Angelina Johnson, who had arrived early in the morning to do the cooking—had even gone so far as to put pieces of parchment over all the windows through which she might accidentally see any of the area for the ceremony. She had been told repeatedly that it was to be a surprise. Ginny had already twice caught her trying to peer around the house out of the bedroom window, but there was nothing to see. One of the chimneys was in the way.

She didn't have any idea how it was possible, but Molly felt more nervous about today than she had on the day she'd married Arthur. He had teased her last week that she had stage fright—they hadn't gotten married in front of anyone but Tom and Marlene McKinnon, the last time. She folded her hands tightly together and released a slow breath, moving back to sit on the foot of the bed. _Stop being silly_, she told herself.

"'Ere we are," Fleur's voice chimed as the bedroom door swung open. Molly beamed as Ginny came in, carrying a dress bag on a hanger, and Fleur followed her, cradling Victoire in her arms. "Say 'ello to Grandmére, Victoire," she purred, bringing the baby to Molly. "Tell 'er 'ow beautiful she looks."

Molly blushed, smiling down at the sleepy little face in the pink blanket. "How's my girl? How's my little one?" she asked, tickling Victoire's hand. The baby yawned widely, closing her large blue eyes.

"Thank you for getting 'er to sleep, last night," said Fleur, stifling a yawn of her own as she helped Ginny unwrap Molly's dress. "I forget zat she is used to 'earing ze ocean—but ze clock by ze crib worked perfectly."

"Well, babies often like rhythm," Molly replied, rocking Victoire gently. She smiled at Ginny. "I had to put my wristwatch inside this one's teddy bear so she could hear it tick. It was the only way I got any sleep for about three months."

"I remember that bear. I donated him to science," said Ginny vaguely. Molly stared at her, and she grinned. "He was a guinea pig at Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. George keeps him in the display window now as the unofficial mascot." Molly laughed as Ginny unzipped the bag and helped Fleur lay the dress out carefully on the chair. "Oh, _Fleur_—you're amazing!" Ginny gasped.

Molly stared at it. "How did you find time to do this with a baby in the house?" she laughed.

Fleur shrugged, taking Victoire again so that Molly could stand up and look at the dress. "She likes to be wiz me, even eef I am working on something. I 'old 'er in ze sling you gave me, Ginny, she loves eet and she stays quiet." Then she gave Molly a furtive smile. "I may 'ave done _some_ work before she arrived," she admitted with a wink. Molly shook her head.

The gown was long, pale blue embroidered with flowers of white thread around the neckline and loose, floaty sleeves. It tied in at the waist with a white silk ribbon before draping in a wide, rippling circle to the floor. Molly brushed her fingertips over the chiffon, and for some reason, her eyes filled with tears. She closed them quickly and kept her back to Ginny and Fleur as she said, "I think I can manage from here, girls. I'm sure there'll be some guests arriving soon. I'll come down in a bit."

There were a few moments of silence, during which Molly could almost see the look that Ginny and Fleur shared.

"I've got to see if Luna's here to work on the bouquets, actually," said Ginny.

"I should feed Victoire before ze ceremony," Fleur murmured.

"Erm—call if you need me, Mum. Careful not to get any makeup on the dress," Ginny added. Molly nodded, and a moment later, the bedroom door clicked shut after them. She sank, weak-kneed, onto the end of the bed. Was there ever going to be a time when her heart didn't suddenly startle her with a terrible pang of longing for Fred? She took a slow, deep breath, and calmed herself down. This was a happy event—and if Freddie were here, he would have been happy to participate in it, most likely by making trouble.

"He's here," she told herself firmly. "He is. Now get up, and get ready."

* * *

"Oh, Molly," gasped Fleur when Molly descended the stairs an hour later.

"Mrs. Weasley, you look amazing!" cried Hermione. She and Angelina Johnson stood in the doorway to the kitchen, openmouthed. Hermione held a just-washed mixing bowl and a dishtowel that she seemed to have forgotten about entirely.

Ginny stuck two fingers in her mouth and whistled. Molly turned bright pink and shot her a reproving glare. She gestured to the covered-up windows. "Am I allowed outside now?"

"Yes, yes, everyone is 'ere," said Fleur as she got up from the rocking chair. "Ze boys 'ave just brought Arthur." She passed Victoire to Ginny, who had also come over to look at Molly's dress. "Perfect—but let me fix ze sash."

"Go tell them we're ready," said Ginny to Hermione and Angelina, who immediately stripped off their aprons and hurried outside.

Fleur came around to face Molly and smiled. "'Appy anniversary, Molly," she said. She turned to a nearby table and picked up two bouquets of the most colorful and unusual flowers Molly had ever seen; they certainly had come from the Lovegoods' garden. She presented Molly with the larger of the two and kissed her cheek. "I 'ope to celebrate ze next thirty wiz you both, as well."

"Oh, Fleur," Molly replied, feeling rather choked up again, "I hope so too." And they embraced tightly, until Victoire gave a discontented wail in Ginny's arms, waving her little hands for her mother. Molly moved to lean over her. "Thank _you_ for being here, too, my sweet girl," she laughed gently, as Fleur took her up against her shoulder.

Ginny had taken her bouquet and looked to Fleur. "Start up the music?" she asked.

"Of course," Fleur replied, departing through the back door, leaving Ginny and Molly alone.

"Hope you haven't got cold feet," Ginny told her, smoothing her hair.

"I think it's a little late for that," said Molly with a laugh. There was a sudden honking sound; she looked down at her bouquet in alarm.

"Luna," Ginny explained. "I wouldn't worry about it."

Molly chuckled. "Come here, Ginevra," she said, opening her arms.

"Mum…"

Molly squeezed her in a tight hug. "I'm your Mummy. I get to do this whenever I like, and there's nothing you can do about it."

There was a sudden tinkle of music from outside the kitchen door; it sounded like wind chimes. Ginny pulled back, smiling. "That's our cue." She took Molly's hand and led her to the door. "I'll be right behind you, okay? Just walk. You'll see where to go."

"I love you, sweet pea," said Molly happily.

"Me too, Mummy," she replied. "Now, come on." She opened the door. "Don't leave my Dad at the altar."

Outside, the sun was disappearing on the horizon, and the entire sky was pink and gold, streaked with color that bled into a deep blue strewn with stars. The aroma of the flowers in the garden was overpowering in the last heat of the day. Molly took a step forward—and on either side of her feet, little lights burst, glittering as it set off a whole chain, illuminating a path that led through the flowerbeds, through the orchard, to the very heart of the garden.

"Everlasting Sparklers," Ginny said in her ear. "George came up with them. Go on."

Molly's heart leapt joyously; at the end of this path was her family—her sons, her friends, her adopted children—and most of all, Arthur. She smiled, so suddenly, and so widely, that she felt like she flew down the garden path.

She came to a stop under the branches of the largest tree at the far end of the orchard, where everyone was gathered. Her breath caught in her throat. An altar and a canopy made of fairy lights glittered under the sprawling branches of the tree. There were two rows of chairs on either side of a long, white strip of carpet that made the aisle Molly stood on. Hagrid had his own seat at the very back, and winked at Molly as she passed. The guests all stood, gazing at her as if she really were a bride. She beamed at Fleur's parents and little sister, who were in the second row near the Longbottoms and Lovegoods. She saw Andromeda in the second row beside Pomona Sprout, who was seated, and Minerva, who looked very happy.

The first row was family, and it struck Molly as amusing that they could fill twelve chairs on their own, with two little ones on laps (Harry had Teddy, at the moment). All the boys had dates; Ron held Hermione's hand, George whispered something in Angelina's ear that made her laugh, and Charlie and Darya were both grinning at Molly from where they stood beside Fleur. Percy had even brought Audrey, whom Molly would meet for the first time tonight. They all looked so happy, coupled off together, that she wanted to cry. Then the music gave another little trill, and her eyes were drawn up to where Bill stood by the canopy of fairy lights—and then she saw him, as if for the very first time all over again.

Arthur stood directly in front of her, looking a little stunned. Bill was just behind him, in the position of the master of ceremonies, smirking at his father.

"Hi," said Arthur, as she stopped before him. She laughed, taking his hand. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ginny slip into the seat between Harry's and Fleur's.

"Hi, yourself."

Bill flicked his wand; the music lowered, and the guests all took their seats.

"Bit different from last time, isn't it?" Molly whispered, squeezing Arthur's fingers. He grinned at her.

"Ready?" asked Bill, leaning forward. "You look great, Mum."

"Thank you, sweetheart," she said. "I'm ready if you are," she told Arthur, and he nodded eagerly.

"Good evening, everyone," Bill called, straightening up and addressing the assembled guests. "Friends, family…_almost_ family." Molly beamed at Harry and the girls in the front row. "We're here tonight to celebrate my two favorite people in the entire world," Bill said, "Apart from my own wife and daughter. My parents, Molly and Arthur Weasley."

And, unexpectedly—for Molly and Arthur, at least—Ginny stood up and began to clap. She was quickly followed by Harry (and Teddy, who was looking rather bemused in his godfather's arms), Ron, Hermione—Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom, Andromeda—the Delacours—

Every single guest rose and applauded. Molly looked at Arthur, agape. He seemed almost at the point of tears; he was clenching his jaw tightly as he squeezed her hand.

"What on earth—?" she stammered, feeling torn between laughter and tears. She looked at Ginny and Hermione, who were both beaming at her, and Ginny whistled at her again.

Bill stepped forward. "Mum, Dad—that is from everyone whose lives you've improved—" He paused and swallowed, blinking, "—by being a part of them. There are people here whose lives you have saved, whose spirits you have lifted, and whose broken hearts you've mended, just by being there for them," he said. "And I haven't even started talking about your kids."

Molly's chin trembled, and she reached out and grabbed his hand. "Thank you, sweetheart," she whispered. Bill nodded.

"I've always thought of my parents as a kind of force of nature," he continued, now addressing the guests. "You'll be hearing more from my siblings on that point, later—mostly from George, I'll bet." There was a round of laughter. "Not only did they raise seven of us—" Molly's heart ached, and Arthur squeezed her hand, "—but they gave us the most amazing family that anyone could have ever hoped for. It was never 'no,' but always, 'let's make it work.' The door was always open to our friends, we were always offered advice when we needed it—even if it was _terrible_ advice," he said. "Never ask my dad about how to win a girl over, by the way. I'm still wondering how he snagged Mum."

Molly laughed hysterically, and Arthur turned red, though he too was grinning. Ginny hurried up to the altar and covertly passed Molly a handkerchief, which she accepted gratefully and wiped away her tears.

"Mum and Dad," said Bill, "Tonight is about you, and the amazing family you've created—including your granddaughter. It's your thirtieth anniversary, and your vows that we get to see you renew. Everyone else will talk at dinner," he said, gesturing to Ginny and the boys, "But now it's your turn. Happy anniversary. I love you." There was another round of applause as Bill hugged and kissed Molly, then Arthur, and then went to stand with Fleur and Victoire.

Molly looked at Arthur, sniffling and wiping her cheeks again. "Do you want…?"

He nodded. "Please."

She smiled. "Go on."

Arthur wrapped an arm around her, bringing her close to his side. "Thirty years ago today…I kidnapped Molly from her parents' house, and we sneaked off to Scotland to get married." He laughed, and Molly did too. "I was a terrible influence on her, and I don't want anyone to ever follow my example," he added, giving the front row a stern look; there were several giggles, and Hermione blushed bright pink. "But I can honestly say, without a moment's doubt in my mind, that it's the best thing that's ever happened to me, and there will never be a day that goes by that I'll regret doing it." He reached a hand into his pocket and pulled out a bronze Knut. He held it up for everyone to see. "This was the first engagement gift I ever gave Molly, because it was all I happened to have on me—and if I didn't give it to her right at that moment, she would've walked out for good. Even if she was being silly."

Molly blushed.

Arthur looked down at the coin in his palm. "It's exactly the same coin, and for the last thirty years, we've been playing a strange kind of pass-the-parcel, back and forth…and we've never lost it, or spent it, or anything. I think you gave it to me two months ago, when our first grandchild, Victoire, was born." She nodded, almost unable to see through her tears, and sniffled. "When I was thinking of what to say in my vows," he said, "I kept coming back to this…and then I thought that maybe, in this case…I could keep it simple. This has been the symbol for us for this long—why break a good tradition now?" He picked up her hand and placed the Knut in it. "This is my vow, Molly. I hope it's enough."

Molly looked down at it for a moment, and then up at Arthur. She beamed before throwing her arms around his neck, kissing him soundly to a round of applause and kindhearted laughter. She pulled away from him at last, but kept her arms around his waist.

"Oh, Arthur," she sighed, shaking her head. "It's been a mad thirty years with you. And…through everything we've had, and we've—lost—" her voice broke, and she looked away for a moment. Arthur rubbed her arm gently. She took a breath and smiled again. "I can't say that I wouldn't change anything," she said, her voice shaking terribly, "but almost." She wiped her eyes quickly and gave Arthur a water smile; he had tears in his eyes, as well. She took another deep breath and steeled herself. She could almost hear Fred's voice telling her to stop crying. "I'm sure this is going to damage the already extremely underfed egos of our children," she said, shooting looks at the six of them sitting in the first row, "but you are my heart. I don't know what I would do without you to brighten my day…so my vow is to remember forever that you're a part of me, and you always will be. I love you."

Arthur couldn't have grinned more. He reached into his pocket and produced one of the new rings that he and Molly had picked out; they were a gift from the children. Ginny darted out of her seat again and handed her Arthur's band. They exchanged the rings, grinning foolishly, and then leapt into each other's arms in a passionate kiss.

"Happy anniversary," Arthur murmured in her ear as the guests clapped again.

"Happy anniversary," she whispered back. "I'm starving."

He laughed and pulled back. "Do you know, so am I? I was so nervous, I couldn't eat all day," he told her. Molly closed her eyes for a moment, smiling. "What?" asked Arthur.

She shook her head. "Nothing at all, you barmy old man." He enveloped her in another hug.

"Mollywobbles," he muttered in her ear, and a chill chased down her spine.

"Hey, Mum! Dad!"

They looked around.

Ron, Bill, Charlie, Percy, George, and Ginny had all run to the other end of the garden and drawn their wands; everyone turned around to look at them.

"Happy anniversary, from all seven of us!" George yelled. "Now!"

"_INCENDIO!"_

Explosions of colored light rocketed into the night sky, glittering and whirling up above the Burrow, and Molly gasped. With an almighty _clang _like the tolling of a great bell, one bright red rocket and one gold rocket collided in midair and burst into shining dust. Where they connected, glittering stars of scarlet and gold hung in a massive heart, inside of which was inscribed,

Molly  
and  
Arthur


End file.
